


N for nebulous

by carxies, minyards (carxies)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, All typos and overall non sense have been provided by my own brain, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Implied Sexual Content, Like super safe, M/M, No mafia just shitty families here, Pining, Rated M Just To Be Safe, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, aftg canon trigger warnings like panic attacks and some violence apply, listen this is just a camp au, tragic backstories apply but they are much lighter than the canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:02:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 103,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carxies/pseuds/carxies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/carxies/pseuds/minyards
Summary: After his frankly terrible second year of university, Andrew wants a quiet, peaceful summer with his family. Of course, he should have thought about that before bringing a total stranger to the camp he calls home
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 211
Kudos: 252





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have two andreil fics on hiatus because of plot holes I cannot fill, so this is my runaway. I wanted this to be a simple 10K of bittersweet pining, but suddenly I was at 17K and still on the first week of the whole damn summer. So, yea.
> 
> I am currently at 28K and on only the second week, so you can imagine where this is going to go. Either way, I am posting this because I secretly hope someone will push me in the right direction about some things, but I also hope at least one person enjoys this pipe dream of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew almost runs a strange man over on a flooded road and decides to bring him to the camp

In the middle of the road, an old silver pickup truck came to a sudden halt, tires gliding on the wet concrete. The windshield wipers of the car barely caught the heavy raindrops beating down against the glass. Their drumming mixed with the static buzz of the radio, its signal long lost in the storm keeping up with the truck for most of its journey, an aggressive melody of the night.

All of it was lost on Andrew.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, hands trembling against the rubbed off leather. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he sucked in a deep breath and held it in his lungs, opening his eyes to stare past the blurry window ahead.

A mere foot or two from the truck’s ugly nose stood a soaked figure, stock-still in the harsh yellow light. Past the raindrops and quick motion of the windshield wipers, Andrew couldn’t make out more than the person’s smudged outline. Clearly standing. Alive.

Andrew’s breath escaped him in a long sigh.

Finger by finger, a process that lasted seconds but felt like years, Andrew peeled his hands of the steering wheel and brought them to his face. He flexed his fingers and when their tremors did not cease, he curled them into fists.

Out in the rain, the stranger did not move an inch. Andrew couldn’t tell if they were paralysed or stupid, couldn’t tell if they were staring back at Andrew, or didn’t acknowledge the car in front of them at all. Frozen, but alive.

Andrew pressed his fists against his eye sockets as if to scrub the image of what could have been off his mind. His brain offered more images instead; memories and imagination blending together in a puddle of blood on the cold concrete. Andrew greeted the memories like an old friend and guided them to the dark corners of his mind, where they were at home. Hiding in the shadows but never gone.

Andrew forced his hands to lay in his lap and opened his eyes. The stranger had not moved an inch. 

The rain drowned out the unsteady hum of the engine, but Andrew felt its vibrations in his whole body, grounding him in reality. The stranger, unmoving, was alive. Dead people, by all logic there was, could not stand on their own. The person in front of Andrew’s truck was alive.

Alive but unmoving, testing Andrew’s patience more than the storm ever could. Without a second thought, Andrew slammed his fist against the horn, white knuckles digging into the faded black leather.

The sound the stranger back to the living. Andrew didn’t linger in the car long enough to see them turn their attention to the driver’s seat.

The rain was cruel against Andrew’s exposed skin, running down his face and his neck, under the fabric of his jacket. His steps were heavy against the wind and water pooling on the concrete, but it would only take a few to face the person. Alive.

The stranger, looking more a boy than a man, startled at Andrew’s presence. Andrew couldn’t see much of him through the shower of rain until he stepped closer, hands up in the air as if approaching a wild animal. Judging by the frightened look, the stranger and the wild animals had a thing or two in common. 

A shiver ran down Andrew’s spine, jacket quickly soaked through.

“Are you hurt?” Andrew asked, voice raised to be heard over the storm.

He did not receive an answer. The stranger only clutched the duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, the only waterproof thing he carried on him. Andrew doubted the stranger could offer anything Andrew would be interested in except for his face, all sharp angles and three circular scars on his left cheekbone.

Chilled to the bone, Andrew repeated his questionwaited for longer than it took the Earth to rotate around the sun before he lost his nerve and waved a hand in front of the stranger’s face.

“I’m fine.”

Andrew didn’t let the momentary relief show in his features, but he drew his hand back to his side. “How convincing.”

“I am fine,” the stranger said and rolled his shoulders back and forth, planting a seed of doubt in Andrew’s mind. He gazed straight through Andrew, uncaring of the wet ginger hair falling into his eyes.

The skies continued to weep above them.

Up close, it was clear the stranger had a few inches on Andrew, but he held himself smaller, less noticeable. 

“Where are you headed?” Andrew asked.

That question finally forced the stranger’s full focus on Andrew. He looked at Andrew wide-eyed like he couldn’t quite comprehend the meaning of the question. As if it had layers and layers he couldn’t peel off. It was a simple question, one that should not send a man spiralling down into the arms of a mental breakdown. That should have been the car almost hitting him.

“What is it of your interest?” he asked at last, holding onto the duffle bag for dear life.

“I can take you to a camp to spend the night,” was all Andrew said. It was a plain offer, an act of human kindness that very few would believe to be genuine of him. 

Without waiting for an answer, Andrew turned on his heel and strode back to the truck. Yanking the door open and climbing into the driver seat, he tried to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of drenched fabric sticking to his skin. 

He rubbed his face and pushed his hair off his forehead, pointedly avoiding looking out of the front window. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, once, twice, before he reached for the key. 

The passenger door squeaked and then flew open, dragging Andrew’s gaze to it before he caught himself. The stranger didn’t speak, but Andrew saw the question in his eyes for what it was.

“Get in,” Andrew said, voice half stuck in his throat. “If I wished to kill you, I would have already.”

Turning his attention back to the road, Andrew turned the key and brought the humming engine back to life. The door slammed shut and Andrew stepped on the gas, lighter than he normally would.

“There are way worse things than dying,” the stranger said beside him.

Andrew didn’t dare to glance at him. He remembered the scars vividly enough to nod, lips pressed in a tight line as he drove whatever disaster the man was back to his home.

-

The journey back to the camp dragged on for two hours that night, its length pronounced by the tense silence that Andrew himself created and the stranger ignored.

By the time the truck stopped on the mostly empty parking lot and blew its last breath into the mud underneath it, Andrew’s watch showed it was well past midnight. The rain had not lost any of its intensity.

The two of them sat in the car for a little longer, preparing themselves to face the sky’s wrath again. The car’s heating, like many things in Andrew’s life, was broken and had a mind of its own, switching between warm and cold air as it pleased. Andrew anticipated the stranger to say a word about it. The stranger did not.

They ran to the main building, embarrassment forgotten in the name of shelter.

The light in the kitchen in the main building was still on, Nicky’s shadow flickering behind the curtain. Andrew did not dwell on the meaning behind the light.

He dug the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the main gate with frozen fingers, leading the stranger further inside the property. The main building’s door had been left unlocked and Andrew wasted no time slipping inside, the stranger on his heels. 

Andrew shut the door closed and kicked it for a good measure, his boot staining the wood with mud. As he was shrugging his soaked jacket off, Nicky emerged in the main hall, a mug of steaming something in hand. Hot chocolate, probably. 

“Andrew, I-“ he started and stopped dead in his tracks, his surprise audible in the gasp that echoed down the hall. “I was worried.”

Andrew dropped the jacket on the floor and kicked his boots off next to it, his damp socks slipping on the cold titles as he crossed the distance between him and his cousin. He reached for the mug before Nicky even registered him and had the chance to offer it. 

It was hot chocolate as Andrew predicted, made for him. Extra sweet.

“Ran into trouble,” Andrew said, nodding towards the said trouble gaping by the door.

Nicky cleared his throat and composed himself, his smile wobbly in confusion but bright nevertheless. He looked the stranger up and down, settled on his face. Andrew mimicked him, finally given the chance.

The yellow light of the hall confirmed Andrew’s assumptions of the stranger's look. It highlighted the scarred cheekbone, definitely burnt, and orange hair that would probably be much lighter in colour once dry. His face lacked any traces of the youthful fullness that boys had difficulty growing out of. The man was beautiful in the way Andrew knew only a few to be, all sharp and yet delicate lines. 

He couldn’t be older than Andrew, but there was something about his eyes, like they had not seen the war on the screen but from the front line. 

“Hi! I’m the owner of this baby,” Nicky said, arms flying in the air as he gestured to the plain hall and the whole camp. He barely missed smacking Andrew in the rush of the excitement brought by a new face. “Nicky, Andrew’s cousin. He helps out during the season; you know how things get. And you?”

The stranger stared at him as he’d never heard so many words at once, much less directed at him. Andrew shot the man an unimpressed look, although he himself tended to get overwhelmed by his cousin’s mere presence. At that, the stranger seemed to come to himself, a little at least.

“Neil,” he said. “Sorry to cause trouble.”

Andrew found it hard to look away then, even as he brought the steaming cup to his lips and swallowed down a sip through the burn. He had wondered why the man did not offer his name in the car. Andrew wondered why he himself didn’t ask for it, what danger could a simple name be.

At least Nicky had lifted the weight of awkward introductions off Andrew’s shoulders.

Nicky laughed. “You are no trouble at all! You will stay until the storm calms down, right? I will clean a room for you right away.”

“I can take stay in one of the cabins,” Neil said. 

Andrew watched Neil’s grip on the duffle bag tighten and hid his suspicion behind the mug. 

“They might be flooded by the morning,” Nicky said, his smile slipping off his face with the sobriety of the storm’s power. The last thing they needed was for the cabins to flood. “Are you sure?”

Neil nodded and reached for the door, apparently independent enough to show himself around. 

Nicky squawked beside Andrew and strode after Neil, catching him by the soaked sleeve of his hoodie. Neil recoiled from the sudden touch, back hitting the door behind him as he flinched away from Nicky, expression tight. Andrew’s fingers twitched by his side, but he forced his feet to remain planted to the floor where he stood.

Nicky yanked his hand back as he’s done a million times before, the apologetic smile familiar to Andrew after years of receiving it daily. Nicky meant no harm; he simply didn’t understand. 

“At least let me give you some sheets and walk you there,” Nicky said. “And the cabins are all locked, of course!”

Neil shook off whatever Nicky had triggered in him and nodded once more. He lingered by the door after Nicky rushed down the hall, his gaze avoiding Andrew’s questioning one.

“Neil,” Andrew said, his voice ringing through the hall. 

The familiarity of the echo grounded Andrew as much as the unfamiliarity of the name on his tongue unravelled him. It was a strange combination of strain and comfort, but Andrew wasn’t a man to experience one without the other. 

Andrew couldn’t relax without his body tensing at the vulnerability comfort brought and he found comfort in being alert, wary.

Perhaps that was the reason Andrew noticed the stranger registering the name as a means of addressing him a second too late. To his credit, the realisation dawned on his face fast after that, invisible to anyone who hadn’t spent their entire life reading people.

“Yes?” Neil asked, his voice steadier than Andrew had expected it. Trained as about everything he’d shown so far.

“Do not make me regret stopping the car,” Andrew said, “I don’t believe in such things as regret.”

All Andrew wished for was one last somewhat peaceful summer with his family, with those who chose Andrew and those who Andrew chose for himself, far away from the rest of the world.

Neil opened his mouth just as Nicky emerged back with a handful of items, sheets, and old clothes they had lying around, a spare toothbrush even. Andrew never got to hear what Neil had to say, but he hoped Neil understood the warning for what it was. 

Andrew mock saluted him and Nicky, leaving them behind.

-

Andrew’s room upstairs, tucked away in the corner of the building, was far from ideal. It was slightly smaller than the dorm room he shared with others at university, just enough to fit a bed, a desk, and whatever unnecessary things Nicky convinced Andrew into moving up there. 

All of the sloping walls of the first floor were covered with wooden panels, a bold choice of whoever designed the place. Andrew’s own had been stained darker than the rest, the wood almost black, which Andrew suspected to be the work of Nicky. His cousin had never confirmed any special treatment to the room, but the gentle tug of his lips as he gave Andrew the key when they moved in was enough for Andrew not to ask. He knew for sure that the other rooms were not given any additional attention other than being cleaned up.

Andrew unlocked the door and locked it right behind him. The room welcomed him exactly how he had left it last summer, scattered books and dust setting on every surface. Andrew ran a finger across the top of the drawers and wiped his dirty finger against his damp jeans. 

He sipped the hot chocolate, no longer burning hot, and despite everything, he allowed himself to feel at home for one short moment of rare peace. 

Outside, the rain continued to beat against his window.

-

And yet, Andrew could not sleep; Neil’s unmoving figure standing in front of the truck haunting him. As the hours grew late, Neil began to collapse instead of standing when Andrew closed his eyes, a twisted trick of Andrew’s imagination.

Andrew ended up in the dining room, sitting in the dark and staring at the calendar hanging on the wall, full of cheerful photos of animals. Andrew didn’t dare to turn the pages, but he knew that if he did, once, twice, thrice, there would be a single black dot in one of the squares. 

Months ago, Andrew had entered the legal adulthood believing he had no fear left in him, but the black dot terrified him beyond words.

-

To no one’s surprise, Neil didn’t show up for breakfast the next day. Andrew had a hard time accustoming himself with linking the name with the face in his head. For reasons Andrew was yet to figure out, the name didn’t sit well with the stranger.

That was a problem for later hours.

The sky shed large raindrops the whole night and showed no signs of stopping in the morning. Andrew sat by the wobbly table in the kitchen while Nicky talked his ear off about his trip to Germany. He rummaged around as he wrote a rather detailed shopping list for Aaron, but where the noise and babbling were once an itch under Andrew’s skin, it was now a safe routine.

Andrew’s twin would complain and make faces once he saw the list, but he would do what he was asked to do in the end. The same thing couldn’t be said about Andrew, who just arrived the last night, bringing a stranger with him at top of it. Nicky knew better than to bother Andrew his first day. 

Andrew was, after all, the one keeping the place together for the most part. Nicky was yet to mention the broken table in the dining room, but Andrew had stumbled across it that morning already.

With a theatrical huff, Nicky slumped in the chair beside Andrew and wordlessly slipped the strip of paper towards Andrew in case of any additional wishes. Nicky had already written alcohol at the bottom of the list, unspecific because Aaron was familiar with what to take for each of them. With the amount of the bottles and his face, _Andrew’s face_ but aged differently, he would be asked for ID. 

Next to the alcohol in Nicky’s messy handwriting, Andrew wrote ice cream, only to notice it higher on the list when handing the list back to Nicky. He refused to dwell on such a trivial sign of being known and downed the rest of his drink. He reached for another doughnut out of the paper bag.

“Shouldn’t we check on Neil? The puddles outside are deep enough to bathe in at this point,” Nicky said. ‘ _For you at least_ ,’ he didn’t say, keen on living a little longer.

“He probably ran off,” Andrew said, mouth half full of the doughnut. They weren’t fresh anymore, but edible to an empty stomach. 

Nicky frowned at him. “How far would he get in a weather like this?”

“How far did he think he would get in a weather like last night?”

Nicky sighed and crossed his arms on the table, laying his head on them. Cheek squished, he looked up at Andrew. “Where did you find him anyway?”

“In the middle of nowhere,” Andrew said. Nicky grumbled under his breath about details. “About in the middle of the road from here to the city. Almost ran him over.”

Nicky nodded and closed his eyes. Andrew guessed he had been awake for hours, cleaning, and preparing what he could during the storm. Nicky didn’t ask about the near-accident – he knew better than that. 

“There are no buses or trains along the road. No villages. Do you think someone just dropped him off there?”

Andrew hummed and flicked some of the crumbs at Nicky’s face. One of them landed on Nicky’s nose, prompting Nicky to open his eyes to glare at Andrew. Andrew glared back and Nicky accepted his defeat, staring off in the distance to save his pride. 

“I’m glad you brought him here,” Nicky said, the tone of his voice final. “God knows what would happen to him out there. He probably already had enough.”

With a yawn, his eyelids slipped closed.

Andrew hummed again, gaze dancing across the room and settling on the window. Through the curtain, he watched the rain smothering the grass and pooling in the earth’s pits. The main building rested on top of a small hill, safe of the gathering water. The cabins underneath it may as well be swimming pools. 

Neil looked like he would be the person to survive the apocalypse on his own, bite the zombie before it bit him. Andrew had no place to worry about a stranger.

-

And yet he had dragged himself off the chair and to the main hall, toeing in his dirty boots and stealing one of Nicky’s coats. 

Facing the wild wind, Andrew strode down the hill on what once was a nice little path, irritated as the rain once again drenched him.

The green areas of grass were now the bottoms of small lakes, and Andrew cringed when he had no other chance than to step into them. He hoped Nicky was clever enough to give Neil the first cabin as he beat his knuckles against its door. 

The door flew open a moment later, Neil still there and still alive. Alive. In the moody daylight, Andrew couldn’t look away from him, from the curls his ginger hair dried into and the ice-blue of his eyes.

“I was just about to leave,” Neil said, the duffle bag over his shoulder like a shield and a treasure at the same time. He stood in a puddle that the floor of the cabin had become, but he looked much less bothered by it than Andrew.

“Are you stupid?” was all Andrew managed. He rubbed his temple before he could stop himself, the lack of sleep catching up with him. “Come to the main building.”

Perhaps English wasn’t Neil’s first language, because he asked, “Why?”

Andrew had punched people in the past, but never he had wanted to punch someone more.

“The storm is not about to stop any time soon. Unless you are hiding a boat there, I recommend postponing your road trip,” Andrew said, his voice surprisingly calm for the boiling blood in his veins.

Neil stared at him for a little longer, and Andrew was in all seriousness about to ask him if he spoke German, but then something in the man broke and he nodded, head hung low. 

Andrew turned on his heel and rushed back up the hill.

-

“Hey.”

Aaron greeted Andrew with the exact same amount of enthusiasm as he greeted a stranger in their dining room, which spoke a lot of his relationship with Andrew and of his social skills both.

Andrew had long given up trying to change his brother’s mind about him, content with being certain of Aaron’s health and safety. Nicky called that crazy; Andrew called that acceptance.

Aaron did not ask about the stranger’s presence and he did not ask of his appearance, of his scars and flinches every now and then. It was not out of lack of interest – curiosity was one of the things that Andrew acknowledged as a trait running in the family. It was out of the hate towards anything Andrew related. 

Andrew supposed Neil, tailing Andrew for most of the morning, fell under that category. 

They were yet to speak.

Sitting on the tiled floor of the dining room, Andrew was occupied with putting back together the broken table. Andrew wouldn’t bother with it if they could afford to either lose or replace it, but their budget was already tight without unnecessary purchases and the loss would be too apparent.

Neil entertained himself with watching Andrew struggle from across the room. Andrew didn’t send him away to keep an eye on him, which wasn’t subtle, but Neil didn’t protest. He didn’t have much of a choice in the matter as far as Andrew was concerned – Neil could stand Nicky’s company for only short periods of time anyway.

The only hope for the table was to screw its leg through and back to the board. Andrew dug through the tool case and when he didn’t find screws long enough, he rose to his feet. Dusting off his jeans, he sent Neil a simple look.

Without any glitches in the translation, the man followed Andrew out of the dining room. He kept his distance as Andrew lead him down the hall to one of the storages. 

Andrew expected to be buried under piles of garbage, but the storm had apparently prompted Nicky to clean up even the half-forgotten hiding spot. He flicked the light on and stepped inside, searching for a small plastic box with random screws that he was too lazy to ever sort out. He spotted it on one of the shelves and already knew this was Nicky’s revenge. 

“Grab it,” Andrew huffed, arms folded across his chest. The skin of his forearms under the armbands itched.

Neil took a tentative step inside the storage room and followed Andrew’s gaze to the box. He too had to stand on his tiptoes to brush his fingers against the box, but at least he had reached. He pushed the box off the edge and caught it with his other hand, holding it out for Andrew.

He did not say a word, but his eyes shined with smugness his mouth would not dare to speak.

Andrew snatched the box out of his grasp and stormed out of the tiny room, slamming the light switch uncaring if Neil was yet to step out. Laughter, muffled and unfamiliar, echoed behind Andrew down the hall.

Andrew could stomach to look at Neil again only back in the dining room, where he took his previous spot. Neil lingered by his side.

“Should I hold it for you?” he asked. 

Andrew nodded.

-

One did not have to be a genius to see that Nicky’s best attempt at a sandwich ended up on Neil’s plate by no accident. Neil didn’t acknowledge the fact even if he had noticed and thanked Nicky with something strange behind his gaze. It was not a romantic interest as Nicky hoped, that much Andrew could tell.

Andrew didn’t wish to spend his first day home trying to solve a riddle that he would lose to the road soon, and so he didn’t try to name the emotion and he didn’t look for its source. 

And yet, Andrew couldn’t ignore the stranger altogether, not when he became Andrew’s second shadow. Andrew figured the man’s tactic was similar to Andrews –keep the possible threat close.

Neil’s behaviour gave away nothing that would signal a threat. It was the way his posture and quirks had been learnt and practised that didn’t sit well with Andrew. He was used to carrying himself small, presenting himself as a weakling. The three scars on his cheek, although no one asked about them, spoke of stories worse than accidents and bar fights. 

It was the way his name lay heavy on Andrew’s mind and wouldn’t slip past his lips. It was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit in any of the gaps.

Outside, the storm raged on, tempting Andrew’s control of his own curiosity. He ate his sad-looking sandwich and didn’t return any of Aaron’s accusing glares. Nicky again and again attempted small talk to be shut down by a single word reply from Neil. 

It was the weirdest meal Andrew had been part of in years.

-

Not full and not hungry anymore either, Andrew sat in the kitchen and itched for a cigarette, but Nicky wouldn’t allow him to smoke inside because of the smoke seeping in everything. The signal was weak, too weak to watch anything, and so Andrew moved to the entertainment room, as Nicky called it, only to spend the rest of the afternoon in his head.

Nicky had different plans.

“What if I offer him to stay the summer,” Nicky said, more a thought than a real question. “We are short on people anyway and we will need someone trained before the- You know.”

Andrew knew. 

“Are you sure you want to take in another stray?” Andrew asked instead of addressing the dot on the calendar. “You know they can bite.”

Nicky laughed, the glee in his eye real as he gazed at Andrew with something Andrew pretended not to see. “I have been bitten enough times to know when not to offer a hand.”

That was a lie. 

“What makes him different?” 

What made Neil with a burnt cheek different from Kevin, who screamed and kicked in his sleep and snapped when he was awake. What made Neil different from Aaron, who knew only disrespect and lack of interest. What made Neil different from Andrew, who walked away each time a hand had been offered to him.

Perhaps it wasn’t about Neil as much as it was about Nicky. Andrew would never understand why Nicky continued to reach out, a smile on his face as his heart was being stomped on, again and again. Andrew would never understand how there was anything of it left.

“It’s how he looks when you give him the most mundane thing,” Nicky said.

Andrew didn’t understand what Nicky meant then, but he didn’t tell Nicky so. Whoever Nicky chose to invite to the camp was out of Andrew’s right to deny. Andrew’s task was simple, to keep his family safe and sound.

-

They had not spoken about the offer again, but Nicky’s words played on repeat in Andrew’s head that night.

-

“Are you sure? I think we could last another few days,” Nicky said the next morning, hands tight around his cup of coffee. “We have canned beans somewhere.”

“I am not eating beans for god knows how long,” Andrew said. 

The rain didn’t show any sign of stopping during the night, the grassy areas of the lower part of the camp drowning in water. Aaron refused to sit in the car the other day, when the road was still somewhat visible, and it was unlikely he would set off that day. 

No one blamed him for that. 

They were running out of supplies though, food and even stupid toilet paper. Andrew would not ask Nicky to drive either, and so he was the last man left. 

“We can make it,” Nicky urged again. He was terrible at hiding his worry, always wearing it on his sleeve. Or perhaps he didn’t try to hide it at all. Andrew could never tell. “I wanted to go on a diet anyway.”

The attempt at a joke fell flat under Andrew’s glare. Nicky sighed and handed Andrew the shopping list, complete with four different handwritings. Andrew recognized only three.

“Did you ask him as well?” Andrew asked.

“Yeah, so he would feel included!” Nicky exclaimed and pointed at the small letters in the corner of the paper. “He only wrote corn chips to indulge me.”

“How self-aware of you to notice that,” Andrew muttered. 

Another sigh. “Buy the corn chips anyway.”

Andrew resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he left Nicky in the kitchen and climbed up the stairs, striding towards the very last room in the hall, right beside his own. He knocked twice and waited.

On the other side, Neil fumbled with the key in the old, half rusted lock that most of the rooms had. When he finally unlocked the door and burst it open, a surprise bloomed on his face for a good second, until he caught it and masked it with a neutral expression. He did not expect Andrew.

“I’m going to the town,” Andrew said. 

Andrew didn’t think Neil to be stupid enough to hear a question where there was a command and he was right. Neil jerked his head in a curt nod and retreated back in the room to grab his precious duffle bag from his already made bed. It was only eight. Andrew doubted he had slept at all.

Neil followed Andrew to the main door like the familiar shadow he had become in the short amount of time. He greeted Nicky obvious of the looks Nicky had been shooting him and slipped in his sneakers, barely dry. 

“Take this,” Nicky said as he thrust one of his old coats into Neil’s chest. “I don’t want you to freeze out there.”

Neil stared back at Nicky as if Nicky offered him half of his fortune instead of a green trench coat with a grass-stained beige lining. Neil opened his mouth, to protest probably, until he caught Andrew’s stern eye. Gingerly, he accepted the coat, fingers clenching in the fabric as Nicky smiled and let go of it. 

Andrew recalled Nicky’s words and he understood. Somewhere deep in his memory, he saw himself, when he first met Nicky three years ago.

“Thank you,” Neil choked out, slipping the coat on. It was at least two sizes too big on him, falling over his hands and reaching his knees. Andrew couldn’t decide if he looked ridiculous or not.

Nicky waved his hand and slid another one last concerned look Andrew’s way, which Andrew returned with a blank stare. Somehow, this did not assure Nicky.

“I’ve driven in worse,” Andrew said. 

He realized his mistake only after the words had pushed past his lips. Nicky didn’t wince the way he used to, but his shoulders held tension Andrew didn’t notice a minute ago. 

“I know.”

Andrew ignored the pang in his chest, much like he ignored most of the things, and laced his boots. When he straightened and checked his back pocket for his keys, Nicky was still watching him with that faraway look in his eyes. 

Andrew patted Nicky’s shoulder blade, once, and turned his back to his cousin before either of them could say anything else. He did not wait to hear Neil’s goodbye.

The rain wasn’t unexpected but made Andrew recoil all the same. He did not bother with bringing an umbrella, relying on the hood of his coat for the most part. It didn’t do much against the wind carrying the water wherever it pleased. 

The raindrops fell cold against Andrew’s skin, rolling down his cheeks and every now and then sticking to his eyelashes. Like an old man, Andrew tilted his head up to the sky and silently cursed at it. More raindrops slid down his face.

Neil caught up with him at the main gate, unmoved by the rain. 

The car’s heating decided it would humour Andrew for a short while as Andrew brought the truck to life, and Andrew caressed the dashboard in an unnecessary, absurd thanks. 

Beside him in the passenger seat, something broke in Neil. He snorted out loud, the sound catching both of them by surprise. Neil pressed his hand against his mouth, to smother the laughter into his palm, but it rang in Andrew’s ears anyway.

Andrew seized the first thing in his reach, a bunched-up paper bag from a fast-food restaurant, and threw it on Neil. The bag bounced off Neil’s chest and fell down by his feet. Neil barely registered its impact, the grin oh so obvious behind his bony fingers. They, too, bore a fair amount of slowly fading scars.

Andrew tore his gaze away from Neil and stepped gripped the steering wheel, bracing himself for the three hours long drive.

-

The first traffic light on the road was still outside the city. The road work had been paused, but the bright red stopped the truck anyway. Andrew knew the colour to last for ages from his journey the other day.

The irritation of waiting must have gotten to Neil, because for the first time in the two days, he spoke up without being prompted or asked. 

“Do you guys play exy?” 

Andrew almost kicked him out, into the rain where he had found him. “What.”

“Exy. It’s a sport where-“

“I know what exy is.”

“Do you guys play?”

Andrew sucked in a long breath. He did not need another Kevin. He already had one Kevin in his life and that proved plenty enough. He stared at the bright red light and willed it to disappear, to turn into green, and let Andrew slip out of an exy conversation with the excuse of paying attention to the road. 

The light remained red.

“Yes,” Andrew said at last. He was not a liar. “We do.”

“Cool.” 

Neil curled in his seat, staring out of the window. Although Andrew didn’t know Neil, he knew that look. All the Kevin experience turned out to be helpful in recognizing exy-longing gazes, apparently. 

“The court in the camp is probably flooded by now, isn’t it?” Neil asked.

“Yes,” Andrew said. His chest felt too tight, too small, for his lungs. 

Most of his home swam underwater. The roads were flooded, the same way they had been the summer three years ago. Once again, he was driving despite it all, another person in the passenger seat. 

The fact Neil was a stranger didn’t matter much to Andrew’s clouded mind.

Something sharp hit Andrew’s cheek. He blinked away the fog of his memories and dropped his gaze to his lap. The bunched-up paper bag lay on his legs. 

“Green light,” Neil said, possibly repeating himself, voice so soft Andrew barely heard him over the rain.

Andrew brushed the paper bag off his lap and turned to Neil. He was already looking at Andrew, eyes narrowed and scars pulled tight by his frown. Andrew couldn’t paint a clear picture of him. He couldn’t decide on Neil’s colours or shapes, as Neil was something abstract, new. 

Neil was layers of pretence and secrets, and if he decided to stay, Andrew would allow himself one last puzzle after all.

They continued to the town in silence once more.

-

As the main roads of the town had been empty, Andrew deemed it unnecessary to park properly and instead stopped on the side of the road by the town’s only hostel. Neither he or Neil spoke and neither of them moved.

Andrew’s heartbeat synch with the soft clicking of the hazard light, steady again as the rain drummed against the truck. Andrew had developed a complicated relationship with the rain, but for once, he ignored it as he stared past Neil and out of the window.

The hostel looked nasty even from the outside, the paint chipped and overpainted by talentless graffiti artists. One of the front windows had been broken at some point and had a carton duck taped behind the hole. The place made Andrew’s skin crawl under his sweater.

Neil seemed unfazed by its appearance and that, too, spoke volumes about his background. Why he had not yet left the car, however, was lost on Andrew.

He was yet to speak up about Nicky’s offer. Andrew considered the silence a refusal.

“Do you have a place to go?” Andrew asked at last, not recognizing himself as someone caring for strangers. He did not care, he decided. He simply saw a solution for a problem that he and his family had been stressing over the whole winter. 

Neil fiddled with his fingers in his lap as he shifted in his seat to see Andrew better. “Nicky offered me a job.”

Andrew nodded.

“Would he let me play?”

Andrew was a step from kicking him out of the car and driving off. “He would let you play.”

Neil didn’t say a word.

“Food, accommodation for free. Pays weekly. Work hours are up to your position but you should be available the whole day in case of emergency. Any tips are yours,” Andrew recited their old job advertisement. Nicky didn’t put it up again that year, but that was more for Andrew’s sake than anything. 

It was supposed to be their last family summer, after all.

“Will you allow me to stay?” Neil asked.

Andrew stared at him, a stranger in Andrew’s car, a thief of the air Andrew’s lungs called for in vain. Andrew hated him then.

“I don’t have a say in the hiring matters,” Andrew said and it tasted like a lie. 

If Andrew was truly against something related to the camp, Nicky would listen. Admitting that, however, admitting to being known and heard and seen, was far more difficult than omitting the fact.

“You were the one to pick me on that road,” Neil reasoned, voice soft. 

Outside, somewhere behind them, a car honked. Andrew did not care about traffic rules enough to react to it.

“You didn’t leave me there,” Neil continued when he had received no answer. It was a simple statement that others would not think twice about, but Andrew heard the second part of it echoing in the silence. He didn’t leave Neil there, but he could have.

“You got in my car,” Andrew said and it was clear then. “You don’t have anywhere to go.”

Neil’s mask cracked. The corners of his mouth twitched, like he wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, torn between the two. “I don’t,” Neil said. “I would like to stay.”

And so Andrew let him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the camp is flooded, Andrew faces the consequences of Neil accepting Nicky's job offer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes, I am posting this very early because schoolwork has been killing me and I wanted to forget the finals for a moment.
> 
> This chapter is pretty light even for this au, and is mostly about Andrew's relationships with the others, himself and things and places lol. Hope you enjoy!

The town’s supermarket was a strange place, the time unmoving under the bright white lights. 

The harsh brightness washed Neil out, stretched his skin near see-through and painted the dark circles under his eyes even richer purple. He stuck a step behind Andrew for the most part, peeking over Andrew’s shoulder at the shopping list Andrew didn’t need. 

Fed up, Andrew thrust the list into Neil’s freezing hand and gestured him to walk ahead of the cart instead. 

They stopped in the alcohol section for longer than necessary. Andrew couldn’t find the brand of vodka that Kevin preferred. He was sure he had bought it there before.

“How long will this last?” Neil asked, fitting the yet another bottle of alcohol in between the items of the cart. “The whole summer?”

“A night.”

“What.”

Andrew’s eyes finally fell on what he had been searching for. He nodded towards one of the high shelves and glared until Neil brushed fingers over the right bottle. 

“Take three,” Andrew told him. Kevin would have to control himself a little.

“You guys are crazy,” Neil muttered.

Andrew didn’t correct him.

They proceeded on, Neil clutching the shopping list as hard as the terrible duffle bag of his. How ironic it was for Andrew to be shopping with a stranger while the sky raged outside and the streets disappeared underwater, but the only storm Andrew could focus on was the one locked behind Neil’s icy eyes.

-

Nicky, somehow, impossibly so, was not surprised to see Neil balancing four shopping bags right behind Andrew. He had expected him to return; he had expected him to stay.

The two of them left the unpacking and stacking to Nicky and Aaron as they sat in the dining room with mandatory hot herb tea. Nicky forced Andrew to drink that tea at least once a week but knew to drop five spoons of sugar in it as a compensation for the terrible taste. 

Neil drank his plain and Andrew couldn’t bear to watch that. 

Nicky joined them with heated up soup and fresh breadsticks. He didn’t ask about Neil’s decision, but his gaze kept on sliding Andrew’s way, curious and on the edge of smug. Andrew kicked his shin under the table.

“What can you do around here, Neil?” Nicky asked instead.

Neil stopped dead in his tracks with spoon inches away from his mouth. He collected himself in a matter of seconds and simply said, “What do you want me to do.”

Nicky laughed. His laughter died on his tongue when he realised Neil was serious and he sighed, the way he often did while talking to Andrew. 

“Neil, no,” Nicky said, face kind of mortified. “Just tell me what can you do and we will figure out where you can help out.”

Neil hummed and finally stuck the spoon in his mouth. Once he swallowed, he did take a moment to ponder about his secret skills. Andrew watched the hope reaching Nicky’s face and then promptly draining out of him at Neil’s next words like it was the latest episode of one of Nicky’s telenovelas. 

“What everyone else does?”

Nicky puffed out his cheeks and exhaled the last bits of his patience, clasping his hands together on the table. Still, his tone was soft as he spoke.

“Andrew handles most of the repairs, keeping this place together and in the evenings of events mixes drinks.”

Andrew had half expected Nicky to dive into a complicated storyline like he usually did, but Nicky kept talking to the point.

“Aaron cooks and I help out in the kitchen when he lets me, but I mostly do all the administration that comes with owning the place. Kevin, oh, you are to meet him soon, takes care of the reception, and leads the sports activities. We have friendly exy tournaments and stuff.” 

And just like that, Neil jumped down the rabbit hole.

“Will I be allowed to play?” Neil asked, eyes comically wide. He shared Kevin’s passion, that much was apparent, but where Kevin was technical and serious about the sport, Neil seemed to be filled with pure repressed energy and passion. “Maybe in the evening?”

Andrew rolled his eyes and stood from his chair. He carried his bowl and spoon back to the kitchen, not paying attention to the voices echoing down the main hall. 

He caught Aaron in the middle of preparations for the dinner, whatever was to come out of all the vegetables on his cutting board.

“You dragged in another stray,” Aaron said, a statement rather than a question.

Andrew didn’t humour him with an answer as he washed his dishes, feeling no need to stack them in a dishwasher. Aaron took the silence for what he wanted it to be, a sign to continue talking.

“Where did you even find a dude with a face that fucked up?”

Andrew dropped the soaped-up spoon in the sink and turned to his brother, wet hand finding Aaron’s sweatshirt before Aaron realised his mistake. Aaron wasn’t raised to keep his mouth shut when it came to peoples’ appearance, as if he was the one to speak, but he was old enough to think twice. He preferred not to.

Aaron weighed less than Andrew. Dragging him closer across the titled floor felt like pulling on a string. 

“You know better than to speak like that,” Andrew hissed into Aaron’s face. “If he proves to be any sort of inconvenience, I will be the one to deal with him. Until then, you will be civil.”

Aaron stared back at Andrew through the blond hair in his eyes, glare only a little softer than Andrew’s own. Where he wore Andrew’s face, he lacked the edge Andrew gained through the years. Andrew wouldn’t wish for it to be any other way.

“Funny how you are threatening me but not the stranger here,” Aaron bit back.

“Truly funny,” Andrew said. “I can’t wait to catch him talking shit about you.”

Aaron yanked the fabric of his sweatshirt out of Andrew’s fairly loose grip. “You wouldn’t defend me the way you defend a stranger.”

With that, Aaron stormed off, leaving Andrew to ponder about the exchange with his idiot brother as he returned to the dishes. 

Funny it was indeed. Somehow, Andrew didn’t laugh.

-

The gym of the camp was a room far down the hall in the main building. 

It was locked most of the time, the key lent only to those who were willing to pay a deposit. The equipment was older but functional and the room was big enough to allow a whole team to exercise at once. 

Andrew was the only one who had his own key and didn’t have to snatch the one from the counter each time. It also meant he could lock himself in there, which proved to be useful once the season kicked off.

One of the longer walls was covered in mirrors, but Nicky hid them by a curtain that could be pushed back if wanted. It was another one of his many little displays of affections, Andrew knew. Most mirrors in the camp were too high for Andrew to catch his reflection in by accident. The only exception was the mirror in the first-floor bathroom, and that one was tiny, there out of necessity. 

Nicky went above and beyond to make a home out of the camp, the twins in mind with each of his decision. 

Aaron’s preferences were a little less noticeable only because they weren’t in your face. But the kitchen cabinets were similar to those of his childhood house and Nicky had spent a whole week in stores to find the perfect bean chair for his room. Andrew would know – he was the one to drive Nicky around once he was allowed behind the steering wheel again.

Kevin wasn’t excluded from this treatment either. His favourite sports channels were the first ones on the list of the TV and although Kevin didn’t officially live in the camp, he had his own room there, right across Andrew’s. 

It was hard not to think about Nicky and his affection as Andrew stared at the dark curtains over the mirrors in the gym, half thankful and half itching to tear them open out of spite for being known.

In the end, Andrew left them shut.

-

Many would find it strange that Kevin was the person Andrew had considered as the closest one to being a friend. Kevin was obsessive where Andrew was apathetic, wild where Andrew was calm. They had not gotten along at first, when Kevin arrived at the dorms seeking shelter from his brother and Andrew couldn’t see past Kevin’s cowardliness. 

“It’s just a little water,” Andrew said on the phone. 

He sat in the entertainment room, where one could catch the best signal in the whole building. On the other side, Kevin muttered something Andrew didn’t quite catch. He imagined Kevin to be pointedly staring out of the window, the way Kevin would stare if Andrew was there with him.

“A little- Andrew, it’s a fucking flood. The biblical one!”

Andrew hummed. “The god is punishing the gays,” he told Kevin.

Kevin groaned into his ear in frustration and then the line went strangely silent. He must have pulled the phone away from his face. In the comfort of privacy, Andrew allowed himself to smirk at that.

He would not have said that in front of Nicky, whose parents lived by such declarations, but riling Kevin up was one of the very few of joys in Andrew’s life. Kevin wasn’t homophobic the way Aaron was; Kevin was simply practical, and to a certain degree, correct in some of his raw statements. He was a little confused, but his spirit was in the right place, as Nicky said once.

“Never mind, tell me about the new guy. What position he plays? Is he any good?” Kevin asked, back on the line.

Andrew imagined kicking him.

“Kevin,” he said with a deep breath, “There is a flood. We just talked about it. I did not see the guy play stupid exy and even if I did, I would not care enough to remember and report to you. Terribly sorry. I will tell God to stop punishing the gays right this moment.”

Kevin hung up on him. 

Probably so Andrew could call God and tell him off for the gay punishing flood.

-

Andrew sat in the kitchen, long past everyone else’s bedtime, sore and tired and yet unable to sleep, when Nicky slipped into the room as well. Dressed in his pyjama, he didn’t acknowledge Andrew as he dragged a chair to the window. 

It was one of those nights for both of them, it seemed.

Nicky pulled his legs up on the chair, knees pressed to his chest and cheek squished against them. He pulled the curtain aside to watch the storm outside, water once again attempting to destroy everything he had loved. 

Andrew followed one of the raindrops roll down the window and tried the ignore the heartbreak in Nicky's reflection on the glass. The weather, the universe whole, didn’t care about a single man’s grief, Andrew knew. 

But that night, in the quiet kitchen, Andrew allowed himself to share it.

-

Andrew woke an unfamiliar voice calling his voice, somewhere far away. It was soft, too soft to be Aaron’s and too flat to be Nicky’s. Andrew jolted up; terrified for the second it took to check his surroundings. He was not on a flooded road. He was not outside at all.

His hands were clean, no sign of blood on them as he inspected them, vision still blurry around the edges.

Neil stood at the end of the sofa where Andrew had ended up last night, the chill of the night forcing him out of the kitchen. Andrew’s reaction didn’t startle him, but something complicated bloomed behind his eyes as he watched Andrew.

Andrew knew better than to be naïve enough and call it a shock. 

“What time is it?” Andrew asked with a glare, hoping it would prompt Neil to leave him for a little longer.

It did not. “Ten,” Neil said.

Andrew nodded, possibly looking as tense as he had felt; he couldn’t figure out the reason for Neil being the one sent to wake him. He was a stranger who might have been warned about the violence but hadn’t seen it on his own. If it was a test of a kind, Andrew couldn’t determine which one of them had failed.

“Nicky expects you in five minutes,” Neil said. He shot Andrew one last cryptic look and then he was gone.

Andrew used his five minutes to sit on the sofa as toyed with the knife usually pressed against his forearm until his hand stopped trembling.

-

As Andrew was the one to bring Neil, Nicky deemed it fair to for Andrew to be the one job training Neil. Andrew called baloney, but couldn’t complain too much as Nicky tented to overlook most of his slacking off and still paying him.

Andrew glared down at the list Nicky wrote him, complete with notes and doodles of god knows what. At least half of the things Neil needed to learn required a proper tour of the camp and being outside in general, which was out of the question and played into Andrew’s cards.

“What am I supposed to do?” Neil asked from the other side of the table, looking somewhat starstruck at the potential of a real job. 

Looking at the list again, Andrew himself didn’t know. He slammed the notebook on the table and pointed at a doodle he guessed was Neil wearing a weird uniform. Knowing Nicky, it was supposed to be a butler one.

“You will help with about everything except cooking,” Andrew said. “Based on previous bad experiences, Nicky will probably not force you to speak to people unless absolutely needed.”

Neil frowned down at the doodle and then up at Andrew. “What experiences?”

“Someone might have told a camper to fuck off.”

“What did the camper do?”

“Broke the showerhead in the commune bathroom.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Andrew threw the pen he had been chewing at Neil. “I didn’t say it was me.”

The pen bounced off Neil’s chest and rolled down on the table, stopped by the edge of the notebook. Neil picked it up and recognizing himself, scribbled over the doodle until it was a blob of black ink.

“You didn’t have to.”

Andrew ignored the jab and stood from his seat. “That means you have to know the place as well as we do. Let’s go.”

Neil didn’t say a word, but his smirk was hard to miss when he believed Andrew was no longer paying attention. 

-

“Are all the mirrors around here hung high to piss you off?”

Andrew locked the gym and turned to the mirror on the opposite wall that brought the question on. He guessed even Neil barely saw his forehead in it.

Andrew wasn’t willing to explain his self-hatred to a stranger and he wasn’t going to explain how Aaron felt about the matter either. Nicky would probably rearrange the mirrors in three months anyway.

“Yes,” Andrew said and Neil dropped the topic.

He didn’t seem convinced though. 

-

Nicky’s relief came hand in hand with dread, which too had to be a family thing. The rain had stopped, but that didn’t mean the worst was over. They were yet to see the damage they had been only imagining so far. 

-

Aaron settled on the other end of the table when he spotted Neil glued to Andrew’s side. Aaron shot Neil a nasty look that he wouldn’t dare to direct on Andrew, its truthful owner. Aaron could be a coward like that.

“We will go see the fuckery after lunch,” Nicky told them.

Neil nodded his agreement, and the second Nicky turned his attention away, Neil’s mask of a wallflower slipped down his nose and off his face. All the ice left in the oceans was nothing compared to the glare Neil sent Aaron back. 

Andrew would have missed the exchange if he wasn’t looking for it, if there wasn’t an itch under his skin ever since he had first seen Neil standing in his headlights. Andrew had been waiting for Neil to show his true colours since Neil hid his smile in the storage room.

Where Nicky saw peace, Andrew saw a raging storm in a human body. Where Aaron saw an easy victim, Andrew saw a survivor. While Neil’s cheek was burnt three times like a brand, his hands spoke of a fight, so unlike Andrew’s own.

Aaron huffed but didn’t indulge Neil any further, opting to rise from his seat to kick Nicky out of the kitchen before Nicky burned something.

Neil’s gaze slipped towards Andrew, clearly involuntarily. He too late realised he had been caught, scolding his expression into a blank canvas as he met Andrew’s eyes. But all Andrew did was store the memory for later and move on.

-

The skies remained dark and the wind had not backed off yet, but the rain clouds were nowhere to be seen. Andrew lit his first cigarette after days spent chewing on pencils and straws, driving himself and Nicky crazy. 

As much as they had been unfortunate, they had been lucky. 

Most of the water had soaked into the ground, leaving the camp in puddles instead of a big swimming pool. The wind had not been strong enough to tear the roofs of the cabins and it seemed that their biggest problem starting tomorrow morning would be the mud everywhere. 

-

Andrew snapped Kevin a picture of the camp from the hill, silent and little ugly, but intact for the most part. Kevin opened the message immediately but the response came by the time Andrew was halfway through his second cigarette.

> _Kevin: The god had listened to u_
> 
> _Kevin: Get the guy to play soon_
> 
> _Kevin: I will be there Friday night_
> 
> _Kevin: Don’t kill him by then_

Andrew didn’t bother with empty promises. Friday was three days away and who knew what Neil might do by then. 

As if summoned, the main door burst open and revealed Neil behind it. Andrew measured him with a steady look, daring him to retreat and wait until Andrew is gone.

Neil responded to Andrew’s look with ease and closed the door behind himself, coming to stand beside Andrew. He fished out a cigarette but couldn’t find a lighter in any of his pockets. 

Andrew raised his matte black lighter, a gift from Nicky, and held it in the air between them. Neil stuck the cigarette between his lips and leaned over the lighter instead of taking it, a dare of his own. Andrew flicked the lighter and didn’t linger on the way the warm light danced across Neil’s burnt cheekbone.

Neil did not exactly smoke his cigarette. He took one, two drags and then let the stick burn down between his fingers, inhaling the smoke but not chasing the nicotine. 

Andrew deemed that wasteful, but he wouldn’t be the first one to ask. Neil brought questions of his own, and only by the intake of breath, Andrew should have guessed where they would be directed.

“Nicky said you were good but didn’t care enough to play professionally,” Neil said, like exy was his version of the weather talk. “A goalie, right?”

Andrew blew smoke into his face instead of an answer. Neil inhaled it like it was his own. He gazed at Andrew with something behind his eye, mischief and an ocean of secrets he kept at bay. For once, Andrew decided to humour him, if only because of the damn haunting eyes.

“Isn’t our court professional enough for you?” Andrew asked back. He didn’t care enough about the university team to mention it.

“It is an old outside court in a camp in the middle of nowhere,” Neil said, his voice gaining the sure edge Andrew suspected him to have when he wasn’t hiding behind whispers. “Who will you impress here?”

“I don’t need to impress anyone.”

Neil huffed and the cigarette fell from his hand. He crushed the still burning stick under the heel of his sneaker and ignored Andrew pointing to the trash can by his left.

“With stats like that, you could make it,” Neil said. “Pro team. You could get out of here.”

The cigarette in Andrew’s mouth tasted like ash and he too stubbed it out. All he wished for was ‘here’. It was the most anyone has ever given him, a place to call home and four walls that felt safe instead of suffocating.

He turned to Neil, their faces closer than he had calculated. Andrew had never been one to excel in math.

“Do not project your wet dreams on me,” Andrew said. 

Neil’s eyes chilled Andrew down to the bone, angry with what Andrew didn’t care enough to understand. It prompted Andrew on.

“If the camp is not good enough for you, you are free to leave anytime you like. If you ask nicely, I will even drive your sorry ass to the closest train station. It is three hours away south, as you might know, which makes one wonder just how did you end up where I had found you, in the opposite direction.”

Neil must have heard the warning in Andrew’s voice, but before he could either apologize or continue his taunts, Andrew was long gone.

-

Later that night, long after being left on read, Kevin sent another message that Andrew opened and proceeded to ignore.

> _Kevin: I’m glad you are safe_

-

The Tuesday morning, Neil was present for breakfast, much to Nicky’s joy and Andrew’s half-suppressed surprise. No one asked for Aaron’s opinion, but that didn’t stop him from expressing it by sneering as soon as he stepped in the kitchen.

The rain had not returned during the night, giving them a pass to set to work. Most of it, they could manage on their own. Some things, they were forced to leave to the mother nature. 

Aaron and Nicky began the tiresome process of putting the camp back together by draining the remaining water pooling in the cabins. 

Andrew dragged his feet behind them with the case of ancient tools. His mind wandered miles away as he fixed what the wind had cracked or torn off, present just enough to make a mental note of what couldn’t be fixed right then.

Neil followed them around quietly, tasked with the worst chores – cleaning the cabins. He had to scrub off the mud where it had started to dry on the wood and dust the minimal amount of furniture the cabins offered when he was done. They then tricked him into killing all the spiders residing tax-free in the corners.

A dislike of spiders was also a family thing, Andrew found out the very first summer they had spent in the camp. Andrew wasn’t a man of excuses, but that one spider was too huge to be a citizen of America, and even he couldn’t blame Nicky for clinging to his side as the three of them argued who would say goodbye to their shoe. It absolutely had to be burnt after the homicide. 

Despite all the dirty work, Neil didn’t utter a word of complaint. He listened to Nicky’s overly dramatic explanations of what had to be done and didn’t stop Nicky from sharing the sugar-coated story of how he had acquired the camp.

“Andrew said it was crazy,” Nicky said and somehow, Neil hung on each of his words. “But Andrew thinks everything is crazy. So we went and-“

-

The true story was pretty straightforward. After becoming the legal guardian of two teen boys while still a boy himself, Nicky drew out the fund his family had been keeping for him, applied for a mortgage and bought a camp. With a full university scholarship for the three of them, the camp was both a place to live at during the summer break and a way to make enough money to last them through the academic year while paying off the mortgage. 

Nicky didn’t mention the death of the twin’s mother or his own parents disowning him for taking his cousins in. Andrew suspected that was more of the respect for the twins than anything.

Nicky could be considerate like that. Sometimes it still left Andrew a little breathless.

-

“He asked me to show him the camp on a map,” Nicky said later that night. “A map, Andrew. I don’t know how these work.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Andrew said.

Nicky’s giggle escaped him before he could scold his face into theatrical disapproval at Andrew’s insult, but once the laugh slipped past his lips, he didn’t stop it. They found themselves in the entertainment room for once, as the place was generally warmer than the kitchen and the late spring, early summer was yet to warm up the nights. 

“Call me old, but I really don’t,” Nicky agreed. “I’ve got adult kids and all already.”

It was a longstanding joke Nicky used to tell their teammates two years ago, when no one could quite grasp the complicated relationships of their family. It was one thing to understand that the three of them were cousins who enrolled in the first year of university at the same time. It was a completely different concept to comprehend that Nicky, barely older than the twins and definitely not looking it, was the legal guardian of both Andrew and Aaron. 

“Do not expect any grandchildren.”

Nicky snorted. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Though I wouldn’t be oppressed to someone pulling the stick out of Aaron’s ass soon.”

Andrew sipped his hot chocolate, so sweet it would make anyone’s teeth hurt, and hummed what might have been an agreement.

-

The four of them spent the Wednesday and Thursday in a similar way, spending most of the day running around the camp and cleaning. Andrew and Neil barely uttered a word between them. Andrew did not believe in trivial things such as awkwardness, but Neil held back whenever he had been left alone with Andrew for a moment, careful to keep his tongue behind his teeth.

Andrew wasn’t one to protest against quiet and peace.

-

Excited by the aspect of potentially a new victim to his verbal abuse based around exy, Kevin arrived on Friday morning instead of night. It was so Kevin that Andrew couldn’t even be surprised anymore. 

Whenever or not Andrew liked to admit it, Kevin was one of the very few sources of Andrew’s entertainment, and so Andrew couldn’t complain when Kevin’s expensive SUV parked next to Andrew’s truck. 

Andrew happened to be smoking close by the gate enough to watch Kevin step out of the car and right into the muddy puddle, groaning about the stupid parking lot for pigs. Kevin’s sneakers cost probably as much as Andrew’s entire truck, and Andrew didn’t bother smothering down the amusement creeping onto his face. 

No one could see it anyway.

Kevin slammed the car door shut and strode down the parking lot to the gate, locking the door behind him with a simple click of a button that Andrew was secretly jealous of. 

Andrew liked nice things, as much as it contradicted his whole public personality. Kevin’s car, while pretentious and ridiculously unnecessary, was a black beauty on huge shiny wheels, steady in the sharp turns and fairly fast on an empty road. Kevin didn’t let Andrew drive it often, claiming that Andrew would kill everyone and himself if he had more than ten horses of power under his hands.

Andrew sometimes nodded in agreement with the statement, but never in front of Aaron.

“Will you fucking ever get that done?!” Kevin shouted once he stepped past the gate, sure Andrew would hear him. It was his sort of greeting, his way of confirming the journey had been okay and he was glad to be back, that the only thing bothering him was the stupid parking lot.

“There are more pressing matters to be taken care of,” Andrew said, tearing his eyes away from the number two on Kevin’s cheek. “The damage caused by the flood, for example. Be glad you don’t have to switch to a swimming club.”

Kevin huffed and stopped a foot away from Andrew. “I am.”

Not a hair of Kevin’s stood out differently than when they parted at the end of the semester. Andrew opted to stay at the empty dorms until they closed while Kevin spent some time with his father. They needed some time away from each other before they gathered again to spend the summer at the camp.

“The coach says hi,” Kevin said. “And that he hopes you are not slacking off.”

“I would never,” Andrew said. 

Somehow, Kevin didn’t seem convinced. 

Andrew stubbed his cigarette and tossed the butt in the trash before they walked down the messy path to the main building.

“The party killer has arrived,” Andrew called into the empty hall, certain that Nicky would hear him from wherever he was bothering someone. “All bow to the Queen!”

Kevin rolled his eyes beside Andrew. He lay his bag in the corner of the hall and shrugged off his jacket just in time to be tackled into a hug by Nicky. Despite grumbling about seeing each other only two weeks back, Kevin wrapped his arms around Nicky with ease.

Nicky slapped Kevin’s back to remind him who owned the ground under his feet as much as to welcome him back home.

Aaron stalked behind Nicky and greeted Kevin like a normal person would, none of Nicky’s enjoyment or Andrew’s sarcasm; a simple hello.

Neil showed his face last, a bit lost in the mess of the reunion. Kevin noticed him faster than Andrew expected, but he should have known just how eager Kevin would be to whip someone new into shape during the summer. 

“Neil,” Kevin said, not a question and not an invitation for friendly introductions. “Nicky tells me you are interested in exy.”

Kevin, in all his tall glory, looked the stranger in front of him up and down with a careful eye. Similarly to Andrew, he searched for apparent weaknesses. However, he focused on those related to his beloved sport. Andrew usually focused on keeping his idiots alive.

“I am,” Neil said unbothered, like he was already used to Kevin’s antics. Andrew knew that to be a lie. Getting used to Kevin took years of effort.

His confidence impressed Kevin enough to ask: “What position?”

“Striker.”

Kevin’s gaze slid towards Andrew for a millisecond, returning to Neil as quickly as it had left him. If Kevin expected to be met with a confirmation on Andrew’s face, he did not find it.

“We will see about that,” Kevin said like this was the national team in question and not just bunch of junkies in an old camp. 

“A way to be an ass from the beginning,” Neil said, most likely before he could stop himself. “Nice to meet you too.”

Kevin gaped at him while Nicky laughed by Kevin’s side. The comment tickled Kevin’s ego, Andrew could tell from the way his jaw clenched. 

“I will see you on the court tonight,” Kevin said, voice all steel and eyes even harder. 

There was something about that determination, still new to Kevin, that nudged Andrew’s smirk to soften into a smile. He felt it on his lips, tiny, strange, unfamiliar. All because of Kevin and his stupid exy.

Andrew didn’t think anyone would not notice it, not Kevin and not Nicky. However, Neil’s eyes shifted to him as if on their own accord. Much like Andrew had caught Neil’s mask slipping the other day, Neil found a crack in Andrew’s.

“You will,” Neil said, gaze yet to leave Andrew.

Kevin strode past all of them upstairs, done with the conversation. Andrew didn’t need to tail Kevin like a dog in the camp, where the worst possible thing to happen to Kevin was a bad diet. Still, he saluted Neil for his courage and followed Kevin.

“Asshole didn’t even introduce himself!” Nicky called after them. 

He would tell Neil everything needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we are clear, this fic is:
> 
> 30% pining  
> 10% Neil being either dumb or surprised  
> 10% Andrew loving his family  
> 50% Nicky being the best cousin and parent and friend because I said so
> 
> Also, I am embarrassed to admit this, but I do not have a name for the camp yet, so if you have any ideas, let me know. I've just been playing it safe by having Andrew refuse to call it anything other than the camp lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin doesn't waste time in whipping Neil into shape while Andrew deals with his own issues and resurfacing memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yes, I have been procrastinating by writing this, so I'm posting it to get it out there and maybe receive some validation. I must admit that I am not consistent with updates, but I believe at this point it isn't a big deal yet (I mean I AM posting three chapters in a span of a week, so)
> 
> Hope you are having a great day!

“You didn’t clean the court up,” Kevin said. 

His face was blank, but anger glinted in his eyes as he dug the tip of his sneaker in the pooled up mud. Somewhere underneath it, the camp’s excuse of a court was hiding.

Andrew blew the smoke he’d been holding in his mouth in Kevin’s general direction. Kevin waved his hand in the air, swatting the deathly smoke away from his precious lungs, as healthy as all his organs except for his liver. Even the best of the men were hypocrites. 

“We decided to leave the honours of doing it to you,” Andrew said.

Kevin rolled his eyes and dragged his foot across the ground, revealing a streak of dirty concrete in his wake. He stared at it with disgust.

“How do you even clean this?”

Andrew shrugged beside him. “Swipe it, scoop it up. Rinse it then, I suppose.”

Kevin groaned but pushed the sleeves of his obnoxiously orange sweatshirt up his forearms. Andrew had hoped not to see the ugly thing ever again. Kevin’s limited wardrobe did not allow him such luxury.

While Kevin set to work, Andrew settled on the bench, basking in the slowly warming up sun and ignoring Kevin’s curses. 

The camp court wasn’t the quality Kevin had been used to, or even the proper size, but Kevin would be happy as long as there was any court at all. Exy was both Kevin’s drug and his remedy. Some days, when Kevin’s demons haunted him even during bright daylight, exy was the only thing keeping him from falling into their open arms.

Two years ago, Kevin shook Andrew’s hand as a broken man. At the end of the summer, Andrew would trade orange for orange knowing Kevin could pick himself up.

-

Kevin snatched Neil for practice after they had finished the dinner. He hauled Andrew along for a second opinion like he would ever listen to anyone but himself. 

Andrew could spare an hour or two of his day, away from Nicky’s strange looks and Aaron’s cold shoulder, and so he followed the two junkies like he gave a damn. He flopped on his usual spot and lighted a cigarette only to annoy Kevin.

Kevin was too busy to notice. He glowed under the late afternoon, early evening sun as he unlocked the equipment shed and dug around. He tossed things at Neil as he went, muttering something Andrew didn’t catch from the side-lines. 

Neil’s face told Andrew Kevin’s words weren’t pleasant. Andrew guessed Neil was used to worse.

Kevin didn’t bother with heavy gear; he wanted to see any raw talent first. 

And that was the thing, really, because even uncaring and half dozing off on the bench, Andrew could see it too. Neil was light on his feet, faster than Kevin, and the lack of practised skill was obvious only in his missteps. He was cunning enough to trick Kevin once, twice. 

Kevin knocked Neil down the third time Neil tried to pass him, and Neil landed on his bottom all thanks to his messy footwork.

“Again!” Kevin shouted and where one would hear fury, Andrew heard excitement. “Watch your feet!”

Andrew fished out another cigarette and Kevin continued shouting, the evening passing by.

-

“He could make it,” Kevin told Andrew later that night, reminding Andrew of Neil’s words a few days back. They both were infuriating like that. “Our team.”

Andrew didn’t look up from his book, but the last sentence he read was more a picture than anything in his head. Neil on their team. Beside Kevin, ahead of Andrew. Beside Kevin, filling the blank spot Andrew was to leave behind.

Kevin didn’t believe in charity for lost causes or digging where there was no gold to be found, but Kevin believed in potential. That potential, along with the three perfectly round burn scars on a high cheekbone, made Neil fitting for the team of the strays. Made him worthy of the terribly bright orange.

“I do not care.”

Kevin didn’t state the obvious, that it was unlike Andrew to lie. Andrew was glad for that solidarity as he shut his book closed and headed upstairs.

-

Technically, Andrew was awake because of Neil. 

Andrew was awake because of Neil’s figure lying on the concrete, blood seeping into the water gathering around him, unmoving. Dead. Andrew knew that to be a lie, he had seen Neil more than alive only a few hours back, but his brain was the master of fusing dreams and memories together. 

In Andrew’s dream, Neil lied frozen, unmoving. Dead. So cold to touch as Andrew held the lifeless body in his arms, carrying it down the flooded road. Andrew couldn’t reach the truck, walking miles and miles and the distance not closing. 

Andrew looked down at Neil’s unmoving body and it stared back at him. The cold blue of Neil’s eyes fading into white.

Technically, Andrew was awake because of Neil, and so he deemed it only fair to wake Neil up. 

Neil answered the door on the fifth knock, fiddling with the key in the lock for a moment. He faced Andrew wearing clothes that didn’t differ from his casual wear, hair sticking up and tangled. A few pink lines were pressed into his cheek, but Andrew knew those would not linger. Neil was standing on his own feet, moving, alive.

“We didn’t finish your training,” Andrew said, as if that was an acceptable excuse to wake someone up before six in the morning. “Let’s go.”

Neil blew out a breath that might have been a muffled yawn and nodded. “A moment,” he mumbled and closed the door on Andrew.

Any normal person would simply return to the bed. Neil did not.

When Neil opened the door again, his hair was mostly tamed, and he had switched his t-shirt for a sweatshirt reaching the middle of his thighs. The lines on his skin were still there, no matter hos hard Neil rubbed his thumb over them. Andrew felt like looking at him then was forbidden, a privilege Andrew didn’t deserve. 

The lack of sleep did a number on Andrew’s mind.

Leaving the main building, they stood outside the door as Andrew stuffed his arms into his denim jacket, the thick fabric of his hoodie bunching up underneath it. 

“Did you really wake me for job training?” Neil asked, nothing but curiosity and lingering drowsiness in his voice.

Andrew shoved his clenched fists into his pockets. The morning fog covered everything that wasn’t him and Neil, hid the entire camp under its cape. They might as well be on that road again.

“You keep on giving me nightmares,” Andrew said, offering all the honesty the early morning allowed him to share before his brain caught up. “The least you can do is to be awake as well.”

Neil hummed. “That is fair,” he said. “I didn’t see you at all.”

Andrew remembered the night, the darkness and the noise, how little he had seen over the pouring rain. How he had waited for Neil’s figure to collapse on the cold ground.

It mattered a little, but Andrew still asked, “How did you get there?”

Neil stared off in the distance. He had left the mask of his usual indifference on the nightstand, it seemed, his expression pained with whatever he reminisced. 

“I kind of jumped out of a moving car. It was raining already, so it was moving pretty slow. The driver didn’t care enough to follow me out in the storm.”

Andrew inhaled the morning air and let it chill his lungs as he held his breath. “Who was the driver?”

“My father.”

Andrew nodded. The tremble of Neil’s hands where they clutched the hems of his sleeves prevented Andrew from asking more, pushing Neil past his limit. Instead, he dug out his box of cigarettes and offered Neil one.

Neil took it.

Smoking in silence as the sun fought the fog, Andrew found the tiny fragment of peace to push him through the day, until the night fell and he was yet again forced to face his twisted mind.

-

The camp in the early mornings was timeless. 

It wasn’t much, not really. Nicky grew up in a house right out of the silver screen, clean and cared for. Kevin had been spoiled when it came to material means; he had never experienced a lack of expensive clothes and tropical holidays and a perfect court. Aaron’s childhood house had been small and quiet, a hideout from the rest of the world. 

The camp wasn’t much, not really. The cabins had seen better days and the main building had been only partly reconstructed with the little money they had left after the camp’s purchase. The court was smaller than the real one, because it had once been a children’s football field. The camp’s location was a mere dot on the map, miles away from any city worth mentioning. 

The parking lot was meant for ugly trucks like Andrew’s, not the nice cars some people showed up in. Not for Kevin’s stupid SUV. The gym room was basic at best. The bathroom in the main building was tiny.

However, Andrew had never had any place to call home before the camp. Perhaps it was that sentiment that punched the air out of Andrew’s lungs sometimes, when he stood outside and the rest of the world was still asleep.

Openly presenting the place to someone new was intense, like tearing himself open for Neil to see his insides. Get out of _there_ , Neil had said. Although Andrew refused to acknowledge it, he knew exactly why that statement stung the way it did.

They walked through the camp in silence unless Andrew considered it worthy to mention something related to Neil’s job; the system of the cabin’s numbering or tricks for beating some of the rusty locks. They stopped at the communal bathroom, which from outside was just another cabin, only slightly bigger.

Andrew pushed its door open and Neil followed him to the joined area with sinks and mirrors. Andrew stood with his back to the mirrors as he took in the state of the room, far from ideal but acceptable by the law.

“This place needs cleaning at least twice a day, but we usually manage only once,” Andrew said. “That means if you are free for a second, check it here.”

Neil nodded.

“Do I need to show you how anything here works?”

“No. I take showers here.”

Andrew frowned as his mind helpfully supplied him the unpleasant memory of the shower stalls. “Why?”

Suspecting he would have to wait for his answer, Andrew didn’t let Neil out of his sight as Neil mindlessly dragged his finger against one of the dusty sinks.

“I just-“

He just didn’t trust them enough to sleep with his door unlocked, much less to shower where they might walk in. The communal bathroom was far from the main building, unused by Andrew’s family. Andrew guessed it gave Neil a feel of safety, preferred over comfort. 

He was clever, but not that clever.

“There is a key in the cabinet in the bathroom,” Andrew said, sure Neil would catch on. “We don’t leave it in the keyhole because it always falls out. Just lock yourself and your issues in the next time.”

Neil gazed at Andrew with what might have been gratitude, but before he could speak it, Andrew continued on with the official tour.

He didn’t need Neil to thank him for basic humanity.

-

“I am not touching yall’s nasty socks, so you either load everything black in the washing machine or you stink for another week,” Nicky said. “In which case you are sleeping outside.”

Neil’s gaze flickered to Andrew across the table, and Andrew couldn’t find the right way to interpret that look. 

His mind was still half dazed with his nightmares and the fog outside, Neil’s messy hair and lines pressed in between his scars. Neil had talked with the others before, of course, but once Andrew was around, Neil still turned to him as if Andrew was the anchor in the situations foreign to Neil. 

Kevin pushed his bowl of cereal away from him with enough force to spill his diet milk on the table. “Can you not while we eat?” he asked with great distaste pinching his expression. 

Nicky, one hand on hip and the other holding a laundry detergent, clicked his tongue at the backtalking. “Tell me when else you all gather and keep your mouths shut for five minutes? No? I thought so.”

“You are the one to talk,” Kevin muttered. Still, he added, “I will.”

Andrew tore his eyes away from Neil and tossed another sugar cube into his terrible herb tea.

-

Kevin in all his predictableness planned on bullying Neil on the court. They both stared at Andrew at the door, Kevin used to Andrew following him everywhere and Neil with a question Andrew couldn’t read in his eyes. 

Andrew’s nap lasted only two hours, and thus didn’t provide him with enough patience for their obsession.

“Enjoy each other’s company,” he told them and waved them off.

Neil wore clothes Andrew didn’t recognize, a loose light blue shirt with paint stains and sweatpants that pooled by his ankles. As much as Andrew didn’t care about exy, he couldn’t imagine Neil playing in that outfit.

Kevin huffed, muttering something about laziness and sugar, but he didn’t try to convince Andrew to change his mind. Kevin knew when he could push Andrew a little and when Andrew would snap and tear Kevin into two, his word damned. The lesson took more than one occasion for Kevin to learn, but by now, Kevin interpreted Andrew’s actions well enough to understand.

While Neil seemed a step away from arguing in Kevin’s place, he did not.

-

Andrew’s hiding spot when things got too loud or chaotic was a half-forgotten cabin in the very corner of the camp. He made sure to avoid the corner that morning.

The cabin’s old roof flew off a long time ago, tore off by a storm much like the one of last week’s. Instead of trying to put the roof back together, Andrew simply covered the top of the cabin with new wood, which made the surface flat and easy to access. 

The climbing process could be troublesome some days, after a bottle or two, but Andrew knew how to step on the window sill to pull himself up just fine. The cabin’s height wasn’t enough to twist Andrew’s stomach into knots, but the roof was high off the ground enough to support the illusion of being cut off the world.

With Kevin back and Neil as his new exy student, things did get loud and chaotic pretty fast. Andrew told Nicky that much, as they watched Kevin and Neil sprint to the court. Nicky only smiled at Andrew, something Andrew didn’t dare to think about behind his eyes, and told him that’s how the two of them were.

Andrew sat up on the cabin’s roof with a cigarette between his fingers, looking at the hole in the fence he was yet to officially notice and put on his to-do list. With Kevin back under his watch, Andrew was as calm as he, a man of an eternal unease, could be. 

The only harm that could come to Kevin in the camp was self-caused, which Andrew knew to expect sooner or later. 

Andrew didn’t hear Neil approaching. He was light on his feet as he ran between the trees, the muddy path overgrown and mostly ignored. He too noticed Andrew last minute, his jog slowing into a walk as he neared the cabin. 

Andrew had nothing to say to him, still wired from his too real nightmare; he doubted Neil had anything to tell Andrew after his strange confession earlier.

Still, Neil stopped in front of the cabin, one foot resting up on the cabin’s rotted wooden stair. 

His clothes must had been Nicky’s, lent to him in order to wash Neil’s three grey outfits. Not much could fit into his duffle bag, after all. But surely Nicky had other tops he would not miss, t-shirts he wouldn’t even notice missing from his wardrobe. The choice of the shirt was strategic and it annoyed Andrew especially because he noticed it.

“Kevin has been looking for you,” Neil said. “He said he wanted to practice with someone who could tell exy apart from rugby.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, half intrigued at Neil’s wording. Kevin wasn’t fond of rough play, all things considered, but he didn’t hesitate to shove and kick if he needed to. Andrew didn’t usually get a chance to fight, but when he did, it wasn’t pretty.

“Then you have the wrong person,” Andrew said.

Neil shrugged like he agreed with Andrew, which he couldn’t because he couldn’t _know_ , and stretched his arms above his head. 

“You got a full scholarship for the three of you though.”

Andrew ignored the way Neil’s shirt, too loose to give anything away but so much more exciting than Neil’s t-shirts, rose with the motion and revealed the thinnest strip of Neil’s pale stomach. Andrew had other things to mull over, Neil’s supply of Andrew related information one of them. He would have to sit Nicky down for a talk.

The silence did not discourage Neil. “But you don’t care enough to actually play,” he continued.

Andrew stared at Neil, not in rush to confirm Neil’s precious discovery. It was no secret, and Andrew had no interest in things blatantly obvious. He shot Neil what he knew to be a particularly nasty look. Neil received it with all the grace he possessed, his posture calm where he should have flinched at least.

Would have, a week ago.

It annoyed Andrew to the point of rage. The mention of exy only fuelled the fire.

“I am not interested in either exy or this conversation,” Andrew told him. “Do you have a point to get to or not?”

Neil’s ease twisted into a frown as he looked up at Andrew, arms falling back to his sides. “I just don’t understand how could you throw it away.”

Andrew stubbed his cigarette out against the wood and flicked the butt at Neil. It bounced off his chest, leaving a black smudge on the light blue of the shirt. Neil paid it no mind.

“Then it’s a good thing you don’t need to understand a thing about me,” Andrew said. 

Neil heard the dismissal in Andrew’s voice, but Andrew knew Neil wouldn’t drop the topic, only stack it away for later. It was like looking in a mirror for a second.

As if to confirm Andrew’s suspicions, Neil said, “Maybe I simply want to.”

Before Andrew could jump the roof and do something he could possibly regret, Neil jogged off. 

Andrew imagined him and Kevin bitching about Andrew’s laziness and wasted talent, about his diet and his bad habits and how none of it mattered anyway, because by the end of the summer, Andrew would –

He lighted another cigarette.

-

Kevin did not storm to the cabin to scold Andrew for about everything. Andrew smoked almost the whole box out of spite. He couldn’t wrap his head around why Neil would keep Andrew’s hiding spot a secret from Kevin.

-

As a punishment for slacking off and more importantly ignoring all of Nicky’s messages, Andrew was stuck with Aaron to clean up after the dinner. 

Aaron opted for headphones over listening to the tense silence that followed the twins everywhere, his music blasting so loud that Andrew could make out the angry words of the singer. Andrew wondered if Aaron’s latest petty goal was to become deaf by twenty-two. 

He gathered the plates from the table in one hand and the cutlery in other, handing the dishes to Aaron one by one. Aaron stacked them in the dishwasher heavy-handed, careless enough to annoy even Andrew. He couldn’t even stand to look at Andrew once.

Aaron’s behaviour was only accepted by the majority because of his role as a victim. The team tolerated it and the professors tolerated it; looking past all his remarks and bad attitude. 

As the starring role of the villain, Andrew didn’t get such generous treatment from anyone except Nicky and Kevin, who didn’t ask for the whole truth and didn’t listen to Aaron’s stories either. It put a strain on them all and Andrew knew it would only go away along with him, like a tattoo on his skin.

Andrew handed Aaron the last fork and told himself the awareness of Aaron’s hatred didn’t sting.

-

Andrew and Kevin sat in the entertainment room, which Andrew considered renaming a living room, and watched Kevin’s stupid game. There wasn’t anything else to do, as the signal was bad that night and Andrew’s headache wouldn’t be happy with staring at tiny printed letters.

It was only during the break when Kevin turned and stared at Andrew until Andrew considered throwing a pillow at his face. 

“What.”

“Where were you the whole day?”

Andrew sighed. “Around.”

Kevin crossed his arms over his chest, muscles flexing under his t-shirt. It had been a while since Andrew noticed things like that about Kevin. 

“Neil said he didn’t find you, but after he came back, he played like shit. Or maybe better. It’s hard to tell.”

“Is there a question?”

Behind Kevin, an old advertisement for toothpaste played. Andrew remembered when he first saw it, in a pretty house with a pretty garden. Too bad that fantasy lasted only two weeks.

“Obviously,” Kevin huffed, bringing Andrew’s attention back to him. “What is the deal with the two of you?”

Andrew would like to know that as well. He would like to know why Neil tailed him around and why Neil still attempted to talk to Andrew, no matter how many times Andrew shut him down with a mean look. 

“Aren’t you two best friends already?” Andrew asked instead, voice pitched high to mimic Nicky.

Kevin frowned, partly at the bad impersonation and partly at whatever implication he deducted from Andrew’s question. Before he could speak, the ads on the screen came to an end.

“Hey, your game is back on.”

Kevin shot Andrew a puzzled look, but he did turn back to the television.

-

Andrew avoided Neil the following day. Avoided him with as much effort as Andrew would put into anything, which meant very little. He simply went to his cabin, wishing for at least a few hours of silence after a rather hectic morning. It was a bad day for Aaron.

It was no surprise Neil found him, or perhaps sought him out. Imagining that was a pill especially hard to swallow. Andrew abandoned it as soon as it crossed his mind, before it could plant a dangerous seed of something fallacious in his tired brain.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Neil stood in front of the cabin once more, this time by no mistake. Andrew considered leaving, but that would be giving up. 

Andrew wouldn’t be the first one to break, not ever again.

“Can I?” Neil asked and it took Andrew a moment to grasp the question’s meaning.

“Suit yourself.”

Neil didn’t say more, scanning the cabin for a ladder. There was none. 

Andrew expected him to stay on the ground, but Neil seemed dead set on proving Andrew wrong. Neil didn’t express any annoyance as he climbed on the window sill and pulled himself up onto the roof with ease Andrew couldn’t brag about.

Andrew hadn’t realised how small the roof area was until Neil settled only inches away from Andrew, close enough for Andrew to see his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Are you going to get pissed off every time I ask about exy?”

“Yes.”

Neil huffed, half amused and half unbelieving. “Then just answer me once and for all. Why do you play if you hate exy so much?”

“I don’t care about it enough to hate it,” Andrew said and he sounded awfully like Aaron. “It is a means of passing time.”

Neil leant back on his elbows. If Andrew was to turn his head, the long column of Neil’s neck would greet him in its full glory, the only unscarred skin that Neil was willing to show. Andrew resited looking to save the last bits of his sanity.

“Until when?” Neil asked.

Andrew itched for a cigarette. 

He managed to pull a stick out and bring it to his lips, lighting it on his third try. His only saving grace was Neil’s position from which he couldn’t catch Andrew’s frozen hands fidgeting with the lighter. 

He didn’t offer Neil a cigarette and Neil didn’t ask for it.

“Until I no longer have time to pass,” Andrew exhaled along with the smoke he held in his mouth.

Behind him, Neil moved, the wooden boards creaking underneath them. Andrew wondered if his relatively sloppy work from two years ago could carry them both.

“That is so vague,” Neil said, a matter of fact instead of a complaint. “You could be doing something else, things you actually enjoy instead.”

Andrew couldn’t help himself, hostile as he asked, “Like what?”

Neil shifted again, returning to Andrew’s peripheral vision as he sat up and braced his elbows against his knees. When he spoke, his voice was light, wistful. “You can do about anything here.”

It was only a few days ago when his words about the camp cut Andrew’s chest open, and now he sounded like he wanted to take them back. Andrew didn’t know what had changed, but he didn’t dwell on pointless developments of a stranger.

“I didn’t expect you out of all people to recommend a no exy treatment.”

Neil scooted closer to the edge of the roof, legs dangling in the air. His insistent movement annoyed Andrew, but whatever Neil had come to say, he didn’t say yet.

“I didn’t expect to find anyone as good as you not enjoying the game,” Neil said. “Each day you learn something new, right?”

Andrew pulled his knee against his chest, away from Neil and his restlessness, bottled up energy. He pressed his cigarette to his lips and held it there like a key to lock his words away. He spoke anyway.

“Some need to leant to keep their mouth shut as you have already learnt more than enough about me.”

Neil shrugged, unapologetic about his snooping. “Tell me yourself then.”

Andrew stubbed his cigarette and flicked it off the roof. He lighted another.

“Why would I do that?” Andrew asked. 

“To pass time.”

To pass time. Three months left. The cigarette tasted bitter on Andrew’s tongue, reminding him of empty promises and a dot on a calendar and Aaron’s cold glare. Andrew dropped the stick and crushed it under his heavy boot. When he pulled out the third one, Neil reached out and snatched it out of Andrew’s grip. 

Where Neil found the dictionary of Andrew’s tics and looks, to his gestures and silences, Andrew couldn’t comprehend. He had been sure no copies existed. He was so sure he didn’t give anything away, that he gave nothing for Neil to sharpen and stab him with him. He was so careful with his words, so careful not to let anything slip. 

And yet, there they were, sitting on Andrew’s cabin and talking about nothing while sharing too much.

“As you said, there are much better things to do.”

“I said there were other things to do,” Neil said and brought Andrew’s unlit cigarette to his lips.

He titled his head to the side and gazed at Andrew with impossibly soft eyes, like he would accept anything Andrew was about to utter, an insult or praise all the same. 

“This is the most you have said to me at once. Is it really that bad?”

“Excruciating.”

Neil hummed around the cigarette. “Maybe you should have left me on that road,” Neil said, his expression dropping into acceptance as blue as his eyes.

Andrew leant closer to light his damn cigarette, surprised when Neil didn’t flinch at the flame in the hands of another person so close to his face. His eyelids slipped shut instead, long eyelashes fluttering against the freckled skin. Andrew yanked his hand back, shoving the lighter back in his pocket.

“Maybe I should have,” Andrew said, and the words sounded shallow even to his ears.

-

Andrew stared out of the window, more at his reflection than outside, while Nicky filled the kettle with water. Although it was his own face, it was Aaron who Andrew saw painted on the glass.

It was Aaron and a blurry figure behind him, with hair as light but eyes dull grey. They both sneered at Andrew, despise written clear over their twisted faces. When Andrew reached to rub his eyes, Aaron raised his hand too, smearing blood down his cheek.

Nicky brought him back to the reality with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, so gently placed in front of him and yet enough to startle him. Andrew waved off the apology on Nicky’s tongue and wrapped his cold fingers around the cup.

So late at night, Andrew couldn’t tell his imagination away from his memories, both showing him nothing but ghosts of what he had, what he never had, what he could have had. 

“Thanks.”

Nicky nodded, slumping on a chair to Andrew’s left. “Long day?”

“As any day,” Andrew said, a sign he didn’t linger around to talk about himself but listen. “How is Erik?”

Nicky filled Andrew in on the latest mishaps from Erik’s work, their plans for the summer, Erik’s family and his new idea for a tattoo. Andrew listened until his eyelids fell heavily and opened again with a struggle, and even then, tucked in his bed behind a locked door, he couldn’t sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I am self-aware, I am fixing the last chapter's comment. This fic is:
> 
> *50% Andreil gazing at each other longingly, eyes full of questions, blue meeting hazel over the table, sharing a breath before the world interferes, sharing what words cannot express, and all that gay shit  
> *30% Andrew lighting another cigarette (there are not enough synonyms in the world for this fic)  
> *20% everything else, plot included


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough night for both Nicky and Aaron, Andrew seeks a time out away from the camp, Kevin receives a dreadful text

Monday brought the year’s first serious heatwave along with the beginning of a dreaded week. The heat wouldn’t last long before the temperature was to drop again, but the damp pyjama top stuck to Andrew’s back as he awoke prodded him to search for short sleeves.

From the bottom of the mostly black pit of clothing that was Andrew’s closet, he dug out an old, washed-out t-shirt. It was a gift from Nicky for his eighteenth birthday, a day neither of the twins celebrated. The idiotic print had long peeled off the stretchy material, but Andrew doubted anyone would ever forget what it had once said. 

Andrew stared at the t-shirt, well aware why it still took up space in his drawer instead of landing in the trash bin the second Andrew saw it. As much as it was a joke, it was the first gift he had received not out of pity or necessity. It was not given forcedly and it wasn’t intended to bind Andrew to the giver. 

It was a gift in its truest sense. Nicky saw the stupid thing and thought of Andrew; thought of his cousin practically living in the gym to make up for his height. Hiding in the gym to avoid the world for as long as he could, really, but Nicky had never brought up that reason for Andrew’s short-termed obsession. 

Andrew would wear the t-shirt to sleep and pretend he didn’t know how it ended up in the laundry basket every now and then. Pretend neither he or Nicky knew how much the smallest thing meant for someone who had nothing but their name and hated even that.

Shoving the old present back down, Andrew reached for a plain sleeveless top instead. His black armbands would be on display again after months of remaining shielded from prying eyes, but there was only one person unused to them in the camp. 

Foolishly, Andrew believed he could stand Neil’s icy gaze.

-

Nicky’s voice poured out of the kitchen and carried down the hall. Andrew didn’t pay it attention until Nicky’s question stopped him dead in his tracks, just at the bottom of the staircase.

“Do you think Neil has a crush on Kevin?” Nicky asked in German, tone soft the way it was only when he talked to his boyfriend. 

Andrew crept to the kitchen door and lingered there, as curious as his cousin and just as obvious about it. 

Nicky couldn’t help himself; Andrew knew. As much as Nicky claimed otherwise, argued even, the camp bored him sometimes. Neither the twins or Kevin helped to banish that boredom. Neil, a mystery novel himself in pretty packaging, was the most exciting thing for Nicky to invest his time in after the latest season of his favourite series. 

“Isn’t it you who has a crush on Kevin?” a second voice asked back, sleepy.

Nicky’s phone sat perched against a container of tea on the table, Erik’s blurry image covering the whole screen. Across the ocean, it was a deep night for Erik in Germany, and yet he stayed awake, only to listen to Nicky babbling about the new guy. Andrew couldn’t imagine that kind of bond in theory and yet it presented itself right in front of his eyes.

Nicky clicked his tongue. “I had until I got to know him.”

Andrew didn’t need to see Nicky’s face to know that despite the wording, the statement wasn’t an insult. It was a fact – once Kevin’s position in the group shifted from a stranger to a friend, Nicky’s shallow crush vanished as if it had never existed. Now, Nicky didn’t differentiate between his cousins and Kevin.

Erik’s raspy laugh echoed through the room. “Only one way to know.”

Nicky rose from his seat, disappearing from Andrew’s sight in the far corner of the kitchen. 

“I am not asking him,” Nicky said. “All _he_ asks me is about exy or Andrew.”

Based on Neil’s conversation starters, Andrew had already guessed that much. Hearing the words, confirming Neil’s strange interest, however, was another thing altogether. 

“Then why do you think he has a crush on Kevin?”

Nicky muttered something Andrew didn’t catch and strut back to the table, sagging in his seat. 

“No one is able to spend that much time with Kevin without having a crush on him,” he declared sombrely and Erik laughed on the other side of the line, the world.

Andrew pushed off the door with a cough and stepped in the room. 

Nicky turned to face him with a tired smile, so small compared to the brightness he usually radiated. He didn’t even bother to scold his expression to appear bashful at being caught gossiping.

Andrew crossed the room and stopped by Nicky’s chair, nodding his greetings.

“Morning, Andrew,” Erik said in English, accent strong with the obvious exhaustion pulling on his eyelids. Andrew appreciated the effort – Erik was aware Andrew could understand and speak German just fine, but each time they spoke, Erik chose to use English anyway. 

‘ _You taught the kid well_ ,’ Andrew had once overheard Erik say to Nicky during his visit to the camp. Andrew tried to forget the line for the sentiment coating it, tried to forget the gleam in Nicky’s eyes. His memory didn’t allow him to let the moment go.

“What time is there?” Andrew asked.

Erik smiled. “Around three,” he lied, for Nicky’s sake more than anything.

Andrew didn’t call him out on it as he busied himself with the search of his sugary cereal, likely hidden by Kevin. Nicky bid his bitter goodbye to Erik, sending him to rest. He then turned to Andrew, eyes lowered and unpleasant news tugging at his lips.

“Spill.”

“A bad night,” Nicky said. 

Not for him or Andrew, as they didn’t meet in the kitchen last night. Not for Kevin, who would bound on Andrew’s door until Andrew let him sleep on his floor. 

Which left only Aaron. 

Aaron’s bad night looked worse than theirs. It was all sweaty palms and wild eyes, pale skin marked by angry red lines in the shape of Aaron’s own nails. It was a frantic search for the stack of weed Aaron kept in his drawer. 

Three years ago, Aaron would take anything to dull the screaming in his head, uncaring of names or side effects. He would then laugh and cry, curse Andrew and beat his weak fists against Andrew’s chest, would take a kitchen knife and drive it through the truck’s tires. And as the high slowly wore out, Aaron would smile and ask Andrew to take him for a ride, too.

Three years ago, as Aaron had passed out after yet another maniac night, Andrew locked him in the camp’s bathroom and didn’t let him out until he was clean.

The weed was a compromise Aaron loathed but had no other choice than to accept. It was either weed or nothing – and Aaron wouldn’t last on nothing. 

“How bad?” Andrew asked, pinning Nicky down with his gaze.

Nicky shrugged. “Told me I would burn in hell while you sat on the throne. Not so nicely, but I can imagine it.”

The addiction bubbling under Aaron’s skin boiled his blood once awakened, turned his tongue into a dagger far sharper than Andrew’s treasured blade. It explained why Erik stayed on the phone with Nicky so late – to soothe the wounds of Aaron’s words after Nicky didn’t think to wake Andrew up. 

“Why didn’t you come for me?”

Another shrug. “I was already awake,” Nicky said. “You weren’t.”

Nicky didn’t try to stop Andrew from walking out of the kitchen.

Aaron didn’t as much as stir in his sleep when Andrew burst into his room. The window was left wide open and half of Aaron’s possessions lay scattered on the floor. 

Andrew paused in the middle of the little space, willed the silence to calm the storm in his veins.

The single window did little to ventilate the bedroom. An unpleasant smell lingered inside the room instead of spilling outside, Aaron’s sweat and weed mixed in the heavy, hot air. Aaron had to be high out of his mind to fall asleep there. It wasn’t hard to imagine.

Andrew kicked the half-torn book at his feet and even the bang of it against the wall didn’t wake Aaron up. Judging by his twisted face and greasy hair plastered to his face, Aaron’s sleep, no matter how deep, was far from peaceful. After the fleeting relief of the high, all Aaron could do was to sink low, lower than before.

For a second, Andrew wondered if it would be a mercy to shake Aaron awake and force him to sweat the remains of the drug out of his system instead of leaving him trapped in his head.

Then again, awaking Aaron wouldn’t banish the nightmares – it would only force him to face them in the reality as well. Andrew doubted Aaron could stomach seeing Andrew then.

And Andrew doubted he could stomach remaining in the camp that day.

-

“Send Kevin to wake him in three hours,” Andrew told Nicky, his breakfast forgotten as he snatched the shopping list from where it was stuck to the fridge.

Restocking the camp’s still satisfactory pantry was a flimsy excuse, but Andrew had long accepted that he didn’t need to put the effort in them. Nicky was kind enough to allow Andrew the easy way out without pointing it out, without asking what Andrew couldn’t answer.

As if that wasn’t enough, he had scribbled a few more unnecessary items on the list for it at least reach the crease where the paper had been folded in half.

Andrew scanned it with narrowed eyes as headache overshadowed his thoughts and didn’t linger on the names of his favourite snacks in smudged ink. Andrew couldn’t bear to acknowledge it, not that morning.

“Can I come with?” Neil asked from the table.

_ No _ , Andrew itched to say as he shot Neil a glare over his shoulder. If Andrew needed a time out after one morning of bad news, he couldn’t imagine how tense Neil had to be after a week of strangers and work and locked doors. But for once or perhaps for the first time, Neil looked like he slept in instead of loitering around until the rest of them gathered in the kitchen. He looked like he actually slept, his eyes still wary but softer around the edges.

Andrew recognized that look – Neil had started to settle in, to blend in the strange family and even stranger dynamics. He wasn’t looking for a way out like Andrew was.

What exactly he expected to find in Andrew’s company was a mystery. Andrew had always been too curious for his own good.

“I am not waiting for you,” Andrew said and Neil’s eyes lit with what Andrew didn’t dare to name.

-

Andrew’s pickup truck was an ugly thing, intended for the scrapyard long before Andrew had bought the car. However, even after countless dragging nights of bartending and cleaning strangers’ vomit, it was still the best Andrew could afford.

Now, the wheels and most of the silver metal covered in dried mud and pollen, it looked no better than any abandoned wreck on the parking lot. Yet as dirty as it was, it would crumble under the pressure of the harsh brushes of the automatic car wash, leaving Andrew no other choice than to later hand wash the damned thing himself.

Neil, much like the first night, didn’t either car or dare to utter a comment about the car. 

He ran an idle finger through the thick layer of pollen on the truck's hood while he waited for Andrew to unlock the truck, shapes born under his touch nothing but wonky swirls. At the click of the lock, he wiped his hand on his sweatpants, grey as everything he owned. For some reason, he carried his duffle bag with him, though his grip on it wasn’t as tight as it had been a week ago.

Andrew climbed in the car and didn’t say a word about Neil’s obvious paranoia. Of either being robbed or kicked out, Andrew couldn’t decide.

Neil managed to sit properly for about ten minutes. Then he pulled his long legs to his chest, the heels of his sneakers just barely brushing the faded fabric covering the passenger seat. He was careful – so unlike Nicky and Aaron, who would press their filthy shoes against the dashboard without a second thought. Andrew had long given up on scolding them, the dashboard bearing the evidence of the neglect. The whole car did, really.

But no one saw a point of investing care or money into a car that was about to be wrecked by the end of the summer.

“We are going in the opposite direction,” Neil pointed out as the camp disappeared behind them and only trees lined the road. “Are you finally driving my sorry ass to the train station?”

Chances leaned towards being kicked out, then. The snort escaping Andrew surprised Neil as much as it surprised Andrew.

“No,” Andrew said. “Unless you wish to be dropped off and never seen again.”

Neil hummed and kicked his sneakers off to shift in his seat again. Andrew frowned at the road ahead, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

“Sometimes,” Neil said. “Not today.”

His voice was light, as if to ease the weight of the confession, but Andrew understood the comment for what it was. A truth offered freely in a world where everything had its price. Where truth was the most priced thing of them all. 

Andrew wondered how many times that innocent naivety had burned Neil already. If he was to burn Neil as well.

“Is my family not to your liking?” Andrew asked, stepping gas pedal down just a tad harder.

Neil hummed. The sound was barely audible over the truck’s engine as Andrew pushed the car past its limit. 

An empty road was the one thing Andrew truly craved on the worst of the bad days. 

An empty road stretching for miles, luring Andrew to chase the adrenaline; to chase his inevitable end. It would be the easiest goodbye, to crash on his own terms and end the mad ride his whole life had been. A cowardly end that would be, Andrew mused. Ironic to his close ones and righteous according to the others. 

It would be so easy; so easy if Neil wasn’t by Andrew’s side in the damned car. His presence interfered with the promise of freedom that came along with the speed and the lack of self-preservation.

Neil was the only reason Andrew didn’t stomp the pedal into the ground the way Aaron wished he did.

“They ask questions I cannot answer,” Neil said.

Andrew’s gaze fell to the dashboard. He lifted his foot until the little hand of the speedometer no longer threatened to land him in jail. How funny that would be.

“There is a difference between being able to and wanting to,” Andrew said. “Which one is it?”

“Can’t even if I wanted to.”

Andrew rolled down his window. Neil, as if seeing Andrew do so was permission or command, mimicked him.

“Then tell them that much.”

“They-“

Andrew thought back to Nicky’s weak smile and black ink drying on his fingers. He thought back to Kevin’s curt nod and silence of solidarity. Aaron’s lack of interest, which was unnerving in certain situations but could be soothing in others.

“They will understand,” Andrew said, because no matter how curious their whole makeshift family was, they would.

-

The town was more of a village, although its name claimed otherwise. The place didn’t have much to offer except for its farmer’s market, both the people and the buildings ancient. Through the years Andrew had known it and visited it, it didn’t change. It didn’t age and didn’t get any younger.

By the time they passed the welcome sign, Neil had pushed and folded the cuffs of his sweatpants up to reveal his ankles and a few inches of his toned calves. In the unbearable heat, Andrew cursed the thick denim of his jeans, but he wasn’t about to follow Neil’s lead. Even if it meant suffering a stroke at the age of twenty-one.

Andrew parked the truck at the edge of the town, in the shade of an abandoned factory. The engine hummed and died out, its racket replaced with squeaking as Andrew and Neil rolled the windows back up. Andrew doubted anyone would attempt to steal the car even if he had left the keys on the dashboard, but a habit was a habit.

Upon kicking the door open, the scorching air hit Andrew in the face. It tempted Andrew to shake Neil off in the town and head for the river about a mile behind it, freezing no matter the season or temperature. 

No harm would come Neil’s way in the town of the elderly, but one look at Neil’s scarred face confirmed Andrew’s suspicion that he didn’t have it in him to drag Neil somewhere and then leave him behind. Perhaps in a few hours, Andrew would be desperate enough to take Neil to the river with him.

Neil stumbled out of the car and cursed his numb limbs under his breath. “What are we doing here?” he asked, gesturing at the factory as well as the town. “Wherever here is.”

“Wasting the day away,” Andrew told him truthfully as he pushed his damp hair out his face. It fell right back in his eyes. Aaron’s empty promises about shaving his head one day might have been born out of a decent reason.

Neil stared at Andrew over the truck’s hood, face flushed from the heat. His hair burned bright under the summer sun, demanded Andrew’s focus as everything else about Neil distracted Andrew.

“I thought we were going shopping,” Neil deadpanned and ran a hand down his face.

Andrew would offer him a sunscreen before his pale skin got painted red for days, but Andrew didn’t think to bring it in his hurry to escape the camp’s grounds.

“That too.”

Neil huffed. “You could have told me that earlier.”

“Would you have changed your mind?”

Neil looked around himself, eyes dancing across their surroundings. They skid over the factory and lingered on the scattered trees everywhere, on the dusty path between them, leading to the centre of the town. Out there, the noise of the town couldn’t be heard. 

Out there, life had stopped a long time ago and time didn’t matter until it was suddenly a dark night. After countless trips, Andrew would know.

“No,” Neil said at last, gaze settling on Andrew.

Andrew didn’t allow himself to repeat the single word in his mind, to scrutinize it until he understood Neil’s motives and attempts at decent talks.

“Then it doesn’t matter.”

Andrew locked the car and yanked the door handle to make sure he didn’t image the click while he was lost in the blue of Neil’s eyes. The lock, for once, didn’t fail where Andrew’s self-control did.

“It does,” Neil said, but only shrugged when Andrew raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Be it anyone else, Andrew would have pushed for the answer. He couldn’t recall when he had allowed Neil a special treatment. 

-

Neil followed Andrew down the narrow streets, overflowing with people, and for once he was the one the grey heads turned after. 

Andrew nodded at an older lady who had waved at him with a promise of fresh fruit at the market that afternoon and she grinned, no doubt collecting questions to throw at Andrew once he stopped by her stall.

Neil pushed his way through the crowd to walk by Andrew’s side. “They know you here,” he said in awe, a statement even if he meant to ask. 

“Yes,” Andrew said.

“How?”

Andrew took a sharp left turn to avoid a child on a bike, her skill yet to be perfected. Neil barely avoided being run over by her and stared after her as she shouted her apologies, her feet dangling in the air. Andrew didn’t remember her face – she must have been someone’s grandchild.

“I come here every two weeks,” Andrew said. “The people here don’t change. They remember strangers.”

Neil mulled Andrew’s words over in silence, stuck close to Andrew until they arrived at the square filled with colourful stalls. 

Most of them sold food, but Andrew knew of a few with wooden goods and toys, with flowers and art supplies. Neil gawked at each stall they passed, stopping by many only to touch everything he could and then claim he didn’t need anything. 

At the fruit stall of the old lady at the edge of the square, Andrew found himself a step away from throwing a fit. He reached into his pocket, digging for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty bill and shoved it in Neil’s sweaty, unexpecting hand. 

“I will be here,” Andrew said. “You don’t come back until you buy something.”

Neil stared at him, the bill crumpled between his fingers. “I don’t need your money.”

“You can bring me something as well.”

Andrew braced himself for a fight with the way Neil’s jaw clenched, but Neil only closed his fingers around the money and stalked off. Andrew’s eyes darted after him, lingering on Neil’s fire-red hair until he had disappeared in the crowd.

“Quite a friend you have brought,” the old lady crooned from behind the display table. “Is your cousin busy?”

Andrew turned to face her and when he couldn’t stand the gentle smile, he scanned the full baskets of varying fruit. 

“Yes,” he said as he picked a single strawberry and stuck it in his mouth. He jerked his head towards the crowd as he chewed. “He is just helping out for the summer.”

The lady beamed and bent down for a paper bag, which she handed Andrew. “Take the blackberries before they are gone.”

Andrew listened to her, learnt to trust her over the three years he had been buying from her. While he scooped the blackberries in the bag, he threw a few in his mouth. They were sweeter than last year’s harvest.

“How is your garden after the flood?” Andrew asked, half out politeness and half out of genuine care he didn’t recall acquiring.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe! I must have been a saint in the previous life, the worst went right past the garden!”

Andrew nodded. “That’s good.”

“For us both,” the lady laughed.

More people stopped at her stall and so Andrew stepped to the side, waiting until they had left to pay for all he had picked. The lady gave Andrew a discount no matter how harsh his look had been, claiming he kept the business running.

As Andrew gave up and simply thanked her, Neil joined his side again. 

Grinning, he reached out, something hidden in his fist. “I got you something,” he said and by the spark in his eyes only, Andrew knew to expect trouble. 

Still, he held out his open palm. On it, Neil placed something light and soft. Andrew’s gaze slid down to it, the sight escaping him before he could process Neil’s unbelievable luck to find something like this in a village of the old.

“I love exy,” Andrew deadpanned. “Really?”

Neil had the nerve to laugh as Andrew gripped the plastic keychain in his hand, hot from. “Kevin won’t believe you said that out loud.”

“He really will not,” Andrew agreed.

Neil’s smile fell, its lack ageing his face as he eyed the lady’s stall. She offered him to taste whatever he would like and though hesitant, he did gather some berried in his hand.

Andrew ended up slipping her another bill before he rushed Neil away.

-

After storing the full paper bag in the cooler Andrew kept behind his seat in the truck, they stood by the car. Neil had forgotten himself and leaned against the burning metal, which resulted in his furrowed brow as he cursed under his breath and rubbed his glowing pink arm. Andrew remembered it to be pale just that morning. 

Andrew’s own skin wasn’t bearing the sun much better, the strip of it stretching from his shoulders to his elbows already stinging upon touch. Andrew was glad he couldn’t see his face, more so than usual.

“There is a river close by,” Andrew said, an offer to Neil to accept or refuse.

Neil gazed at Andrew, eyes sliding down to Andrew’s armbands for the first time that day. Or it was only the first time he had let himself be caught. Andrew willed himself not to flinch under the attention, not to shrink into himself in fear of the question slowly forming in Neil’s head.

“Let’s go back before we burn down,” Neil said at last.

Andrew felt it was too late for that, but he climbed in the car nevertheless. He had his window rolled down by the time Neil shut his door.

-

Nicky first scolded them and then laughed at them when they found him like a pair of guilty children. 

He mumbled in German and then Spanish, no doubt making more fun of them in both languages as he gestured for them to follow him upstairs. He rummaged through the cabinet in the bathroom and tossed Andrew a jar of aloe balm for the sunburns. Still grinning and shaking his head, he left them to their own devices.

Andrew sat on the edge of the bathtub while Neil slumped on the miraculously cold titled floor.

The balm smelled way worse than Andrew had anticipated, given it was a simple plant extract, but Andrew knew not to complain in case Nicky had listened from behind the corner. He scooped up a fair amount and handed the jar to Neil with his free hand.

“It smells like a fart,” Neil announced when Andrew didn’t.

Andrew waited for a beat for Nicky to jump through the open door and then nodded. 

No matter the smell, the balm cooled Andrew’s bright red skin immediately, soothing the harsh burn as he rubbed it onto his biceps. It took a great effort not to hiss at each pass of his own fingers.

“It’s nothing compared to the men’s locker room,” Andrew said.

Neil all but slapped a handful of the balm on the back of his neck, flinching as he did. “I can’t confirm that but I choose to believe you.”

Andrew slid the edge of his left armband an inch lower, the line between the burnt and pale skin clean, and huffed at Neil’s comment as much as at the ridiculous contour. 

“That makes you the first one.”

Neil shot Andrew a look over his shoulder. Andrew didn’t bother to analyse it, opting to straight-up ignore it as he moved on to coating his right arm.

Not pushing the matter, Neil patted some of the balm on his face. His nose would no doubt peel in a few days, but that wasn’t what caught Andrew’s eye. It was just how many freckles now played along Neil’s nose and cheeks, forehead and chin, drawn out by the harsh sun. Some of them reached the thin, tender skin of his eyelids, visible only as Neil lowered his gaze to his ankles. 

Andrew tore his eyes away and didn’t dare to look at Neil again, not until Neil stalked to the kitchen to fetch his promised dinner and Andrew watched him go.

-

Aaron didn’t acknowledge any of his wrongdoing that night, although Nicky didn’t bring it up either. 

Andrew hadn’t spent much of his life being petty, as the emotion was useless to change anything and actions born of it tended to be idiotic. But as they sat by the table and Nicky smiled like nothing had happened and Andrew wanted to throw the rest of his salad in Aaron’s face, he knew the bubbling in his chest couldn’t be called anything else.

Aaron didn’t dawdle around after the dinner, possibly sensing Andrew’s sour mood. 

Kevin either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he spread a bunch of papers on the table, each full of notes in his rushed handwriting. They were his plans for the season, ideas to increase the quality of his training and of the lessons he offered to the campers. Out of the four of them, Neil was the only one who listened to him.

Nicky busied himself on his phone and Andrew just stared into the wall, deeming the old paint far more interesting than Kevin’s endless talk of exy. The plastic keychain scorched in the pocket of Andrew’s jeans, reminding him where he had shoved it and was yet to take out. 

He was yet to decide what to do with the damned thing.

Although bought with his own money, it was a gift. Ugly and mocking, given by a stranger, but a gift nevertheless. Years later, Andrew still couldn’t bring himself to throw away anything he was gifted. 

Years later, Andrew still developed an attachment to things that could be taken away from him, like a fool he was.

Andrew pushed himself out of his seat and slipped out of the kitchen, out of the main building. As he walked down the path to his cabin, he slung the keychain on the ring of his keys.

-

Riko’s message was a matter of time, a bomb ready to blow. Just as last year, it sent Kevin into a spiral of panic that Andrew was too late to stop. Once he had finally reached Kevin, half of the bottle was down Kevin’s throat. 

Kevin was far from fond of his adoptive brother; especially not after Riko had broken Kevin’s wrist two years ago. 

The bastard fully intended to destroy Kevin’s career only to save his miserable own. He almost succeeded, but during the years of his dominance over Kevin, he had forgotten just how stubborn Kevin could be. 

How devoted to the sport Kevin was; dedicated beyond Riko’s limited imagination.

Kevin ran away, but not to hide – to heal. Riko’s face when Kevin stepped on the court in bright orange, right-handed and about to beat him at his precious game, was a priceless memory of Andrew’s. 

“Kevin,” Andrew exhaled as he sunk to his knees in front of Kevin, who curled into himself on the kitchen floor. Nicky whispered something to Neil where they stood by the door and they both backed off. “Kevin, give me the phone.”

Kevin did not as much as look up at Andrew. He took another sip of vodka instead. Andrew snatched Kevin’s phone from his pocket and read the message himself. 

Riko’s visit was inevitable, as much as it terrified Kevin and infuriated Andrew. Riko would spend three days in the camp only to remind Kevin that there was no escape from the so-called family. To drag Kevin through hell for his own sick enjoyment.

It had always been up to Andrew to carry Kevin back afterwards.

Andrew was yet to figure out a way to cut Riko off Kevin’s life completely, without facing the consequences that Andrew knew would follow if he simply didn’t allow Riko near Kevin. 

Riko was sly, disgustingly so, in his coverups, hiding all his wrongdoings under a cold smile and publicity he gained thanks to his skill. 

As it was, Andrew waited for a single mistake. Then he would, without a question, take Riko down for Kevin’s sake as much as his own.

“Kevin,” Andrew said again, not sure what else to offer as he grabbed the bottle from Kevin’s shaking hands. That earned him Kevin’s attention, even if only for a short moment. Andrew didn’t need more. “You are fine. We won’t let him get to you. I won’t.”

Kevin nodded, but his eyes gave away his disbelief. Andrew did not blame him – he had seen what Riko was capable of.

“Go to sleep,” Andrew said.

Kevin nodded.

Andrew bit down his hiss as Kevin threw his arm around Andrew’s shoulders and together they walked up the stairs. At the end of the hall of the first floor, Kevin paused, stumbling over his own feet to stand.

“Can I stay in your room tonight?” Kevin asked, voice so quiet he might as well be whispering. Even as he towering over Andrew, he held himself much smaller, terrified of Riko and scared of Andrew’s refusal.

“Yeah,” Andrew sighed. “Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they tomatoes


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for Riko's upcoming visit, the tension between Aaron and Neil starts to worry Andrew

Andrew had long grown accustomed to ignoring Kevin’s tattoo – a black number two on his cheekbone, forced upon him and keen on never fading. As the first sun rays fell on Kevin’s sleeping face and highlighted the dark mark, Andrew could see it only for what it was.

Riko’s brand. A claim on Kevin’s talent and all that he was.

Andrew had never wanted to rip it off Kevin’s skin more than right then.

It would do no good, however, to get rid of the brand before disposing of its origin. The disappearance of the tattoo would do Kevin more harm than good, and so for the past two years, Andrew had ignored it as much as he could.

After nights like the last one, it was harder.

Seeing the terror in Kevin’s eyes, it was hard to remember Kevin had escaped the worst and this was only the aftermath. Looking at Kevin curled by Andrew’s bed, it was hard to resist the urge to end Kevin’s suffering for once and all. Send Riko to the Hell, himself to the prison.

They would both rot away for all they had done, and the world would go on, replace them. That much and nothing else, Andrew and Riko had in common.

Andrew shook the horrid thought off, yanking his blanket off himself and tossing it over Kevin.

-

It wasn’t Nicky who hanged out in the kitchen when Andrew sought it out of the habit, just a little past six in the morning.

Aaron looked better than he had the day before, but that wasn’t saying much. His face was still a ghost of his features more than anything, skin stretched over his bones sickly pale. His mouth too had lost its usual colour, bitten raw and pulled into a tight line at the sight of Andrew. The only contrast to the paleness of Aaron’s skin was the shadows under his eyes.

Andrew wondered if Aaron ever noticed that on their worst days, they truly were mirrors of each other in appearance, no matter the difference in their coping mechanisms. At the end of the day, it was of little importance how they destroyed themselves, as long as they burned. Andrew wondered if Aaron noticed and hated Andrew because of it, among many other reasons.

There were so many of them, Andrew couldn’t keep the count. Their mother and Andrew’s solution for Aaron’s addiction, Andrew’s deals and Aaron’s eternal grief over what Andrew couldn’t change. One more item on the list would barely mean anything.

Andrew did what he did best; ignored his brother as he slipped into the room and set to make himself a coffee without sparing a look Aaron’s way.

“Where have you been?” Aaron asked.

Andrew pulled one of the drawers open in a search for the biggest teaspoon, often misplaced by Kevin in vain attempts to control Andrew’s sugar intake. Andrew never understood how hiding a spoon would help – he would simply use a soup one instead, just to piss Kevin off.

“When?” Andrew asked back. He felt Aaron’s eyes on him like a blade pressed against his skin. He had no doubt Aaron imagined as much at least twice a day. “Yesterday or your whole life? I thought you cared for neither.”

Behind him, the chair scraped against the wooden floor as Aaron pushed it back. Andrew turned and leaned back against the counter, arms folded over his chest while he allowed Aaron to stare.

“You thought right,” Aaron said. “It was me who thought wrong, when I thought you would know that taking the trash out meant leaving it behind.”

Andrew had expected Aaron to hate Neil – he was yet another stranger Andrew had brought in, and Aaron had never been keen on new people in his space. He had been too disappointed by Andrew to give anyone else a chance.

When Andrew first presented Kevin as one of his own, Aaron’s façade of indifference lasted for a month. With each new privilege Andrew had granted Kevin, it cracked, and inevitably, it broke into a million pieces. Back then, Andrew was an iron wall between Aaron and Kevin, both of them still a little bruised and both of them forever scarred.

If Aaron and Kevin ended up talking or fighting it out, Andrew would never know. Both of them refused to talk about their turning point.

Aaron hated everything related to Andrew and didn’t care about much else, his sorrow numbing all his emotions except for that rage humming under his skin. It was easy to miss, easy to overlook on Aaron’s passive face, but Aaron’s anger ingrained deep in his chest. It was unreachable, impossible to tear away from him.

That morning, the rage awoke with Aaron, burning behind his usually dull stare. Perhaps Andrew should be glad Aaron felt anything after his miserable pursuit of escape the other night.

“I think his minimum durability is not due yet,” Andrew said. “It looks like it won’t be for a while.”

Aaron sneered at that. Before he could spit out more of his insults, and Andrew was sure he had a few more in stock, Neil sauntered right into the middle of the warzone. Sluggish, blinking as his sleep softened eyes struggled to focus on the scene in front of him. If it wasn’t for the three circle scars on his cheek, Andrew would deem him just a normal kid, so unlike the rest of them.

But the burn scars were hard to miss, impossible to mistake for an accident, and as it was, Neil might had escaped his own problems only to become Aaron’s new target.

“You got your bitch chipped?” Aaron asked, tone high-pitched as he flashed his teeth at Neil in a twisted grin. It was like looking in a blurry mirror.

Andrew clutched the edge of the counter behind him, bit the inside of his cheek just not to let Aaron provoke him and push him.

Aaron preferred to live in the false conviction that Andrew hated him as much as he hated Andrew. As long as that feeling was mutual, there was no space for guilt, for hope, for anything that could hurt Aaron any further, rip his wounds open again. Andrew would let Aaron live like that; say goodbye like that, even. But he wouldn’t let himself become the reflection of Aaron’s nightmares.

Neil, unknowledgeable of Aaron’s antics and maybe already acquainted, had no such dilemma as he threw off his downiness and aimed for Aaron’s face.

Andrew caught Neil’s fist in his hand barely and stopped it from finding its target barely in time. The pressure against Andrew’s palm was strong, unwavering. Neil pushed and pushed; stubborn the way Andrew expected him to be.

Squeezing Neil’s scarred fingers in his, Andrew forced Neil’s arm to fall back to his side, but didn’t release him just yet.

Only a week ago, Aaron said that Andrew wouldn’t defend Aaron the way he would defend a stranger. Not true, Andrew had thought. And yet there he was, holding Neil down but not striking back.

As if Neil read that struggle on Andrew’s face, his fingers slowly relaxed under Andrew’s own and snaked out of Andrew’s grip. They came to rest in the pocket of Neil’s sweatpants. Neil shot Andrew a look that lasted too long to be anything but a message and he strode out of the kitchen.

Andrew stared after him. It was a mistake Andrew only realised when Aaron broke into hollow laughter.

“I wonder what will happen to him once you are gone,” Aaron said oh so casually. “He signed until the end of August, after all.”

Andrew yanked the spoon out of his still burning coffee and threw it after Aaron. It hit his shoulder, but Aaron didn’t as much as flinch at the sudden attack.

“He will be gone by then as well,” Andrew said and it was a warning that Aaron chose to ignore.

That, too, had to be a family thing.

“I’m sure he will,” Aaron said, a promise that Andrew would believe to be empty if he wasn’t looking right back at himself.

-

Andrew found Neil waiting outside the main building, an unlit cigarette between his lips and something awfully close to regret in his blue eyes. His nose was burned just like Andrew’s, bright red against his slightly tanned face. He still wore his pyjamas, the t-shirt wrinkled and the sweatpants too long. As Andrew nodded at him and Neil set off towards the cabin, he stepped on them.

Neil stopped at the cabin’s stairs and stared at its door, painted mint green once. Now the paint chipped underneath Neil’s fingers, stuck to them as Neil pushed the door open.

The inside of the cabin was empty except for the spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling, coming dangerously low to the top of Neil’s head. Andrew had found the cabin in that state already, if not a little better, when they had first come to inspect the camp after buying it.

Andrew wasn’t excited and Aaron was even less so, but Nicky had grinned the whole day, so unlike the sour expression he wore daily. A home, Nicky called the camp, and Andrew didn’t believe him then, but somehow, he knew that one day he would.

He was sure Nicky knew of the lone cabin, as the previous owner had given him a proper tour, but Nicky never mentioned it while talking of the reconstructions or maintains. When Andrew went missing for a few hours, Nicky never searched around the cabin either. If it was another one of Nicky’s silent gifts, Andrew was too afraid to ask.

Neil being aware of it didn’t sit well with Andrew still, but it didn’t bother him as much as he had thought it would.

“Why don’t you clean it here?” Neil asked from inside the cabin, where Andrew refused to step in.

“Why would I,” Andrew said back.

Neil shrugged and walked out, pressing the door shut. He wiped the chips of dirty mint paint on his sweatpants, making Andrew cringe. Before Neil noticed the slip, Andrew circled the cabin and climbed up on the roof. Neil followed him moments later, without making a sound.

Andrew pulled out his lighter and lit Neil’s cigarette before his own.

Neil didn’t smoke his, taking it out of his mouth after a drag and holding it between his fingers like it was something more than a means of ruining his lungs and possibly teeth. Like it was a memory pressed into an old photograph, like it was a gift hidden under his pillow.

Andrew wasn’t one for melodrama, and so halfway through his cigarette, he stubbed it out and stole Neil’s instead. It tasted the same Andrew’s did.

And yet Andrew couldn’t get rid of the bitterness on his tongue for the rest of the day.

-

Kevin scratched his cheek so often that Nicky decided to cover his tattoo with a band-aid.

It stood out against Kevin’s dark skin, but each time Kevin’s nervous fingers touched the soft fabric, he froze and dropped them. While Nicky would normally be patting himself on the back for the idea and then making everyone else do so as well, this time he only followed Kevin around with an unhappy gaze and always full water bottle.

Alcohol wouldn’t solve anything, especially in Kevin’s case, but even Andrew couldn’t bring himself to stop Kevin from reaching for the bottle after dinner. It was just like with Aaron’s weed and Nicky’s short-termed obsessions, Andrew knew.

It was choosing the bullet that would hurt the least in the long run. Strangely, out of the four of them, Andrew had become the best at it. Placing three lives before his own did that to a person, Andrew supposed.

Instead of preventing Kevin from drinking, they drank with him.

Nicky didn’t bother with glasses as he handed out the bottles in the dining room, and Andrew accepted his without a word. He was the one to pay for them anyway, he mused as he walked in the room.

While Aaron and Kevin argued about some show over the table, Neil sat in his typical corner, back against the wall, and refused anything that Nicky offered him. Andrew slumped into a seat next to him.

“You have to drink something,” Nicky whined.

Neil looked around the room, and when his gaze found Nicky again, he nodded. “Soda.”

Nicky threw his hands in the air, his bottle almost flying out of his grip. He gave Neil his damn soda and left him alone for the sake of joining Aaron and Kevin, who weren’t chatty, but at least let him chime in their conversation.

Andrew caught a few words here and there, but didn’t otherwise pay attention. As long as the camp was still closed, Kevin was still safe and sound. Until Friday.

By the time Nicky decided to turn on the music, Andrew had enough alcohol running in his system not to care about the annoying songs filling the room. Neil, still nursing his one can of soda, didn’t seem to share the sentiment. His grimace could hang in art galleries.

Andrew watched him with amusement, at least until Neil turned his attention to Andrew.

“What’s up with Kevin?” Neil spoke over the music. Where others would lean over, closer to the person they were addressing, Neil kept his distance from Andrew.

Automatically, Andrew sought Kevin out in the half-lit room, attempting some dance Nicky had been teaching him for months now. It wouldn’t last long, but at that moment, Kevin’s expression was clear of the worry that Riko awoke in him. He too, for a brief moment, was nothing but a work of art.

“What should be up with him.”

Neil shrugged, sipped his soda. The delicate skin of his nose already began to peel off, leaving a pale patch behind. Andrew noticed only because Neil rubbed the back of his hand over his sun-burnt nose, tearing more dead skin off.

“He didn’t ask me to practice today,” Neil said.

Of course, he noticed the lack of exy, not Kevin’s emotional instability.

Andrew pressed his bottle to his lips and tipped it, downing the rest of the liquid. He welcomed the burn in his throat, the sensation of it.

“Kevin is expecting a visit,” Andrew said once he was sure the words wouldn’t betray him. “A rather unpleasant one.”

“I didn’t think anything could tear Kevin away from exy,” Neil admitted.

Andrew couldn’t help himself as he huffed out a bitter laughter. The statement wasn’t far from his own conclusion when he had first met Kevin. Unlike Neil, he had the displeasure to be proven wrong not long afterwards.

“It might not seem like it, but Kevin has a life outside stupid exy,” Andrew said. “You should try it.”

The shadows on Neil’s face were harsh, cutting down across his cheek, but the look in his eyes was harder.

“Some of us aren’t university athletes riding on a full scholarship and getting drunk on Mondays.”

“Would you like to be?” Andrew asked as he leaned into Neil’s space, Neil’s angry huffs of breath hitting his face and Neil’s eyes on his unfazed. “Kevin wouldn’t bother with you if you couldn’t be.”

Neil broke under the pressure of Andrew’s attention then, curling back into himself and bringing the soda can to his lips just to have something to do.

Andrew thought he might be smiling against his will, but he couldn’t be sure; he didn’t quite feel his face.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” Neil said, tone final.

Andrew gathered his bottle and pushed out of his chair. “If that’s your answer, it is mine as well,” he told Neil.

With a mocking salute, he walked out of the dining room backwards, just to see Neil watching him until he disappeared behind the corner.

-

Even puking, Nicky found the time to laugh.

Andrew would be impressed if he hadn’t spent half an hour in the bathroom already, Nicky sprawled on the cold tiles and crawling up only to rest his cheek on the toilet seat. Andrew would find it amusing if he didn’t know, somewhere deep down where his brain wasn’t swimming in alcohol, that Nicky wasn’t usually one drink himself into sickness.

Andrew would find it funny if he didn’t feel like throwing up himself.

As it was, he leaned his back against the wall and thudded his head against it a couple of times, hoping the dull pain would bring him back to his senses. It did not.

Nicky settled across him, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and for a split of second, Andrew thought he would replace Nicky’s head in the toilet.

“Distance fucking sucks,” Nicky proclaimed, words slurring together in a mix of drunken incoherence and a suddenly strong accent. “Keep your man close, Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need dating advice from Nicky, but the easiest way out was to play along.

“Sure, Nicky.”

And Nicky smiled, the daze of shots and beers fading from his gaze. Andrew hoped he was too drunk to remember it the next day.

-

Except Andrew woke up, head pounding and t-shirt sticking to his back, and he remembered.

-

Neil played aggressively the following afternoon.

Kevin had managed to talk Nicky and Aaron into a few games over the lunch and as thanks for agreeing, Kevin for once went easy on the two of them. His mercy didn’t include Neil and his pent-up anger.

Irked by Kevin’s nagging and perhaps Andrew’s tipsy words from the last night, Neil pushed where he would normally avoid the clash and missed half of his shots at an empty goal. It was quite pathetic, even Andrew could tell.

After barely a half an hour, Kevin halted in his job and smashed his racquet against the concrete.

“Here we go,” Nicky muttered where he stood close to the benches, sending Andrew a solemn look.

Andrew rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs in front of him. If Kevin had something to say, it was better to let him do it as soon as possible and be done with it.

“Do you listen to anything I say?” Kevin shouted as he strode across the court towards Neil. “If you did, you wouldn’t miss a shot like that!”

By the time Kevin was staring Neil down from up close, Neil had too lost his racquet. He didn’t squirm under Kevin’s frustrated stare and he didn’t step down either, challenging Kevin in a way only few outside of the team dared to.

“Maybe if we had a goalie in the goal instead of on the bench,” Neil started, face turning as red as his nose, “your fucking instructions would be easier to follow!”

Nicky skipped over to the side of the court and dropped on the bench beside Andrew. Not tearing his eyes away from the scene Kevin and Neil were making, Andrew reached behind him and handed Nicky a water bottle they had brought along.

“This has nothing to do with Andrew,” Kevin bit back. “And if it does, that’s your own problem. Don’t expect me to waste everyone’s time by putting you against Andrew when you miss a shot on an empty goal.”

“Do you think Netflix would buy this as a show if we filmed it?” Nicky pondered next to Andrew, unbothered by the possible fistfight. “They are young, hot, and struggle with the epic highs and lows of university exy.”

Andrew kicked Nicky’s shin instead of an answer.

Neil looked two seconds away from murder as he leaned into Kevin’s space. “Why are you wasting your time with me now then?” he asked, his voice half ice and half a desperation Andrew didn’t understand. “Why waste time with me at all?”

“If you want to ever make it, you will need me,” Kevin said simply. “Find me once you understand that.”

Neil might had more to say, but Kevin didn’t plan on listening as he pushed past Neil and marched towards the court’s exit.

“I think it would sell,” Nicky said.

Andrew sighed and only raised an eyebrow at Neil upon becoming the next victim of his deathly stare.

“Maybe it would,” Andrew said.

-

Kevin and Neil did not make up that night.

Even if Kevin didn’t share that information in great detail, Andrew would know by the way the two of them stabbed their vegetables during the dinner. Aaron didn’t care about what people thought of his cooking, but Nicky had at one point asked if they wanted to eat something else.

They snapped their no’s at the same time and Andrew knew exactly what Nicky began writing in his notes app.

-

Kevin lingered in the entertainment room for longer than he usually would, but that jitteriness had little to do with Neil’s tantrum.

Riko’s message might had been deleted off his phone, but Kevin expected another. Riko liked to be remembered, and if that meant reminding Kevin of his visit every day, he would.

Andrew wouldn’t put it past Riko to send Kevin some sort of a countdown.

The movie they both pretended to watch ended with a cheerful song and cut to the stupid shampoo commercials. Kevin didn’t move an inch and so Andrew took it upon himself to mute the tv before his remaining brain cells died a tragic death.

“Wouldn’t it just be so much easier if I went back?” Kevin asked, his voice so small it might as well had been the night’s white noise and Andrew’s mind tricking him. “Stay with him for another three years and then-“

“Then what, Kevin?” Andrew cut in. “Get another couple’s tattoo, play on the same team, sleep with both eyes open for the rest of your miserable life?”

Kevin shrugged like it didn’t sound absolutely insane.

“If you crawl back to him, these two years will be all for nothing,” Andrew said. “My protection and the team, your rehab and everything you had planned.”

Kevin sank further in his armchair, entirely too small for a man of his build. Something deep in Andrew’s chest ached at the sight of him, a friend that would soon leave Andrew behind as he should. Not for Riko though.

“If you go back, he wins once for all.”

Kevin sucked in a shaky breath, fingers tapping against his knees. “I know. It’s just-“

“I know,” Andrew said, because he did. Because he too sometimes thought about a pretty house painted in pastels, of warm smiles and warmer meals.

He would say more, tell Kevin he didn’t keep Kevin safe only to hand him over again, but an image on the TV screen caught his and Kevin’s attention instead.

“That’s- “

The picture on the bright screen was old, probably taken for a yearbook. The boy’s hair was shorter, somehow more tamed, and his cheeks fuller, jaw rounder. But the ginger in a terribly green shirt, blankly staring into the camera, couldn’t be anyone else.

The only difference Andrew could find was the absence of the three perfectly round burn scars on Neil’s cheek.

Andrew unmuted the TV as soon as he caught himself, but the night news already moved on to another story. He sighed and turned the tv off, tossing the remote on the coffee table by Kevin’s feet.

“Well that’s a plot twist,” Andrew muttered into the darkness. “Did you catch anything? A name?”

“No,” Kevin said, voice airy. “But isn’t it illegal to be hiding a missing person?”

Andrew didn’t know. “Are we hiding one?”

Kevin groaned and pushed out of his armchair to flick the light on. Andrew closed his eyes to avoid the harsh light, but all he could see was Neil, barely a teen. Unscarred, but so lifeless compared to the boy Andrew saw just hours ago.

“We might be,” Kevin deadpanned. “What are you doing to do?”

Andrew rubbed his temples. Neil was plenty complicated without his face flashing on the news, but the status of a missing person forced Andrew to face what he had been blissfully ignoring for the sake of peace. Andrew rose from his seat and patted his pockets for his phone, glad to feel its shape deep in his left front pocket.

“I am going to bed,” he told Kevin, a lie not even Kevin was stupid enough to believe.

-

The thing with Neil and his name, Andrew mused later that night, could actually be quite simple.

It was something that had troubled Andrew ever since the first time Neil blurted the name out, soaked and alive, shocked by Nicky’s kindness. Andrew had caught Neil off guard only moments later, and the memory slept curled in the corner of Andrew’s mind, refusing to leave.

It was an itch Andrew couldn’t wait to get rid of.

Neil had been careful afterwards, of course. He adapted both to the name and Andrew’s family in a blink of an eye. But despite Neil’s wit and quick thinking, there was a loophole, a chance for Andrew to trick Neil into confirming his theory.

All Andrew had to do was to wait and catch Neil upset.

That might prove difficult, Andrew thought as he climbed up the stairs. Neil knew to control himself around Andrew and the others, and his slip-ups tended to be exy related. Which was annoying, but not impossible to work with.

Andrew unlocked his door and pushed it open, only to stand in the hallway like a fool, hand still hanging in the air.

On the floor of his bedroom, clearly pushed underneath the door, lay a single twenty bill. Andrew stared at it, neatly folded and mocking him in a way a paper shouldn’t be able to.

And Andrew laughed, the keys in his pocket suddenly way too heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are staying safe and taking care of yourselves!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Riko's visit nears and a secret is discovered, Andrew faces a difficult decision about the stranger among his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hope you are all well!  
> I am posting this a day early because I'm going to be busy with school next week (also it's a little sorry for this week's late update)

Thursday woke Andrew up with soft raindrops beating against his window. The shower was light, calm, refreshing after the unbearable heat.

Andrew pushed his chair to the window which he had opened and sat there instead of bothering with his usual morning trip outside. He toyed with his cigarette box, almost empty, but didn’t feel the pressing need to reach for a cigarette and stick it in his mouth. If that wasn’t a sign of a strange day ahead, Andrew didn’t know what was.

He had hidden the twenty-dollar bill in that cigarette box last night, long after his laughter had died on his lips. Andrew wouldn’t open the box. As he shook it, he could hear the last cigarette and the folded bill rattling in it loud and clear.

Andrew didn’t think he could bear to see the bill again and then proceed with his plans, not without his chest turning into a stone. 

The day the camp would officially open for the season, on Friday, Kevin would be excused from his duties at the front desk.

That was what they had told Kevin, at least. That the following day and that weekend, no one expected him to work. No one was asking that of him. Kevin, shaken and grateful, didn’t question it the way he questioned everything under normal circumstances. 

Truthfully, Nicky, Aaron and Andrew weren’t excusing Kevin. 

They were trying to minimize the chances of Kevin coming into contact with Riko. They were aiming to keep him alive and whole, to make sure Kevin saw the end of the summer without a single new scar on neither his skin or his soul. They were all, no matter their differences and fights, protecting Kevin as their own because their own Kevin was. 

Kevin was an undeniable part of their messed-up group. A group Andrew only dared to call a family when he was about to lose it. Irony at its finest.

But Andrew didn’t forget the second problem at the hand. No, he had spent way too much time thinking about said problem. 

While Andrew worried about Nicky and Aaron still, even after two years, that concern was a habit. Aaron and Nicky knew Riko and they knew to stay out of his way, to let Andrew deal with the bastard on his own.

The real problem Andrew stumbled across while planning the weekend was Neil. 

Andrew had a nagging suspicion that Neil would be the one to poke the bear and stick his head in a full beehive. Andrew didn’t have much evidence to prove his hunch, but Neil did seem to enjoy provoking people he knew nothing about – a former cult member, an addict with no morals, a murderer. 

Andrew would argue that was a reason enough to suspect a man of idiocy running in his veins. 

An outsider stood on their line and now was the time Andrew pushed Neil into showing some of his real colours. He anticipated fire red, angry and stubborn. 

Burying the cigarette box of one cigarette and one bill deep into his drawer, Andrew exchanged it for a new one and headed out.

-

Neil and Nicky sat on the opposite sides of the sofa in the entertainment room, Nicky’s beloved blanket thrown over their laps and a bowl of fruits between them. Andrew knew that at some point, Nicky had pushed the bowl closer to Neil. He was silently caring like that.

While Nicky typed on his phone, either sending Erik his usual million messages a day or writing whatever script he came up with the other day, Neil read.

Andrew couldn’t force his body to take another step in the room.

The book Neil held was all too familiar, pages yellowed but well cared for, Andrew’s old copy of Harry Potter. Neil had the book open in nearly the middle, eyes glued to the text as he blindly reached to his left, digging around the bowl until he caught a blueberry. He popped it into his mouth and turned the page, yet to notice Andrew standing in the door.

Andrew refused to keep the book in his room because that would show sentiment, would give away his attachment to things he so desperately tried to ease. Now, watching Neil leave his fingerprints all over the only good memory of Andrew’s childhood, Andrew doubted his decision.

Doubted his decision to keep the book where anyone could pick it up and doubted the words he was about to tell Neil – a knife to his throat. Andrew wasn’t ready for him to bleed all over the pages Andrew had caressed a million times before.

Not there, Andrew thought. 

Not in front of Nicky, who despite Andrew’s cold shoulder and colder looks chose to spend his sleepless nights with Andrew in their kitchen. Not in front of Nicky, who chose to paint Andrew’s room dark, hung all the mirrors high. 

Not in front of Nicky, who ignored the black mark on the calendar for what it was. In a few weeks, Nicky would sit behind Andrew regardless of his own parents standing at the other side of the room. For all that Nicky had done, he deserved to remember Andrew how he believed Andrew to be.

Not there, not in front of Nicky.

“Neil,” Andrew called out, throat closing around the name. 

Neil dropped the book in his lap as if burned, and the message couldn’t be clearer. 

Neil knew. He knew the book was Andrew’s, knew and decided to read it. 

Andrew didn’t understand why. He didn’t understand why he picked Neil up on that road and why he allowed him to stay at his home. He didn’t understand why Neil asked about Andrew’s career and stats and why he kept following Andrew around. 

Andrew didn’t understand why Neil didn’t spend the twenty-dollar bill tucked away in Andrew’s drawer and why Andrew kept the keychain, a joke that wasn’t at all funny.

Andrew didn’t understand why the feeling pawing at his chest called itself guilt.

Both Nicky and Neil stared at him. Andrew simply jerked his head to the side, a gesture Neil was already familiar with. 

“Yea,” Neil mumbled as he closed the book. He carefully placed it on the coffee table and untangled himself out of the blanket nest, stealing another blueberry as he slipped back in his sneakers. 

Nicky frowned at him and then at Andrew, more confusion than irritation mixed with concern in his eyes. Whatever he found on Andrew’s face convinced him not to say a word, but his expression didn’t relax. If Nicky guessed any of Andrew’s plans, he chose to overlook the implication. 

Andrew knew he shouldn’t feel grateful for it, but he did. Nicky must had seen that.

Neil followed Andrew outside, not bothering with a hood over his head as Andrew had. They walked silently, the rain beating against their shoulders and soaking through their shoes.

They stopped in front of Andrew’s cabin.

Neil eyed the door but didn’t open it, opting to stay out in the rain with Andrew. He picked on Andrew’s dislike of the spiders the other day. His hair was dripping wet by then, falling into his eyes and sticking to his skin. 

He looked so much like that night two weeks ago and yet nothing like the boy standing in front of Andrew’s ugly truck. Andrew doubted it was just the sunburn that changed Neil’s appearance, but he couldn’t pinpoint anything else. Maybe his hair was longer. 

Longer than that night, longer than on the old photo of Neil on the TV screen.

“Green isn’t your colour,” Andrew said, unsure where else to start. 

The rain softened his already weak words, but thankfully Neil couldn’t catch on that. He didn’t know Andrew well enough for it. He never would.

Neil’s puzzled look faded into concentration. Andrew watched him recalling every single item of clothing he had worn in the camp, his grey t-shirts and Nicky’s blue shirt. The coat Nicky had lent him when the camp was flooded was green, but Neil was clever enough to guess Andrew wasn’t talking about that coat. Or so Andrew thought.

“You didn’t see me wearing green,” Neil said warily, his voice high as if he waited for a punchline of a bad joke. He pushed his hair out of his face, only to ruffle it and let it fall back down his forehead.

“The whole nation did by now,” Andrew told him.

“What.”

Neil scowled at Andrew. The rain straightened out the last of Neil’s stubborn curls against his left ear. Neil looked ready to bolt and never turn back, his eyes darting past Andrew’s face and right back like he was calculating if Andrew would let him.

Andrew himself didn’t know. He itched for a cigarette. Not for one of those he had brought with him, still sealed in his pocket, but for that one deep in his drawer.

“Imagine my and Kevin’s shock when your old picture flashed in the late-night news,” Andrew forced through his teeth. “We didn’t even catch your name.”

Neil froze. 

The wind around them picked up its pace and guided more of the raindrops to Neil’s terrified face, but Neil didn’t reach up to wipe them away. They stuck to his eyelashes and ran down his cheeks, right over those three burn scars. 

Neil’s eyes screamed to run right then, but like that night, he only stood still. He didn’t run and he didn’t fight, just a broken boy standing in the rain where Andrew had dragged him.

“What,” Neil said once more.

Andrew swallowed down nothing. He swallowed down the remains of human decency and whatever emotion had been stuck in his throat since the last night. 

“Apparently you are registered as a missing person,” Andrew said. “For two weeks now.”

He didn’t dare to search for more, afraid of seeing a stranger’s name with Neil’s photo. Foolishly, he wanted to hear the truth from Neil. He had wanted something for the first time in a long time, and want was a dangerous thing for a man like Andrew.

Neil nodded, a practised gesture more than anything. “Did you call the cops?”

Andrew should have called someone, legally speaking. But people didn’t run away from a good life. Young boys didn’t run away from loving families and warm houses. Neil didn’t run away from nothing, and no matter the risk he posed for Andrew and his plans, Andrew didn’t leave him on that flooded road for nothing either.

“No.”

Neil nodded again. Andrew wished Neil would pull his hood up, but it was already too late to save either his hair or face from the cold rain.

“Neil,” Andrew said.

Neil was looking at him, but not really. He was staring right through Andrew, lost in something Andrew wouldn’t ask about. 

Andrew didn’t think he could say the words he needed to say if he knew the answer to his question.

“Neil.”

Neil shook off his daze and looked Andrew in the eye. He locked all of his emotion behind that icy stare, bracing himself for Andrew’s verdict.

“Go on,” Neil said.

“Riko is coming tomorrow,” Andrew said. By then, from the voices and the heavy air above the camp, Neil had to know Riko meant no good. “Everyone knows what to do when he’s around.”

A third nod.

Andrew gritted his teeth, shoved his clenched fingers into his pockets. 

“You need to either fit in or disappear.”

Neil didn’t react for a long moment. Then the corner of his mouth twitched and he broke into cynical laughter. “Are you giving me a choice?”

Andrew thought back to the stranger curled on his passenger seat and to Neil curled next to Nicky with Andrew’s book in his lap. He thought of the market and of Neil’s frustration with Andrew’s lack of interest in exy. 

_ It doesn’t matter what I want, _ Neil had told Andrew. Andrew was many things, most of them wicked, but he wouldn’t be like them.

“I am,” Andrew said. “So choose.”

Neil halted in his hysteria; his laugher frozen on his lips and eyes wide. More a boy than a man.

“I want to stay,” Neil said, voice small. As simple as it could be, if they were different people. As simple as it could be, maybe. 

“Then stay.”

A fourth nod. This one, Andrew believed to be genuine, a sign of understanding and acceptance. The monster clawing at Andrew’s heart from the inside roared.

“Is he bad?” Neil asked.

“As bad as whoever did that to you,” Andrew said, gaze hard on Neil’s scarred cheekbone. 

Neil’s shoulders rose up, frigid as he reached to touch the three perfectly round scars. “What are you going to do?”

Talking about his family wasn’t the hardest part, Andrew reminded himself. 

“Nicky is no fighter, but he knows how to stay away and not bring attention to himself.”

Neil’s expression was torn between the obvious joke and considering the weight of Andrew’s words. In the end, he stayed silent, finger digging into one of his scars.

“Aaron,” Andrew said and stopped himself. 

Aaron was his brother. Aaron could take care of himself if absolutely necessary. Aaron hated Andrew and any hint of Andrew caring for him, would hate to know Andrew dared to speak of him with a stranger. Aaron was Andrew’s brother. 

“Aaron won’t be a problem.”

If Neil noticed the pause and read into the silence and its meaning, he didn’t dwell on it. “And Kevin?”

“Kevin freezes the second he sees Riko.”

“I don’t blame him,” Neil said. 

Andrew heard the question even if Neil didn’t ask it. Andrew wasn’t a man of regret, despised those who were for most of his life. And yet, the tightness of his throat as he forced out his next words felt exactly like the one emotion he couldn’t stand.

“You owe me,” Andrew said, despite it all. “Promise me to keep Kevin safe if I am unable.”

The words were a rope snaking and tightening around Neil’s neck, he knew. Unfairly so, but Andrew had long accepted that the world couldn’t be fair to everyone. He suspected Neil did too, because Neil’s face gave away no surprise at being backstabbed. 

Perhaps he didn’t believe that Andrew not leaving him on the road was a simple act of kindness either. Perhaps he knew the moment Andrew admitted he had not called the cops.

“I promise,” Neil said.

Neil himself tied the knot binding him to Andrew’s hand. 

“Then we have a deal,” Andrew said.

Neil nodded.

Andrew turned on his heel and left Neil in the rain. 

He walked past the main building and past the camp’s main gate, unlocking the truck with a shaky hand. His fingers were freezing. He climbed in the driver seat and tossed the keys on the dashboard, slamming his hands against the steering wheel until his palms felt too raw to touch anything.

In the end, Andrew was exactly like them.

In the end, nothing in the world was free, not kindness and not help. The kindness of foster parents had its price and so did Andrew’s help. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well ...
> 
> This chapter is much shorter only because I find this scene to be the second most heartbreaking one in the story and combined with the shit to come (aka Riko), it would just be too much at once (at least for me lol)
> 
> Let me know what you thought about this wild ride !


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Riko arrives at the camp, Andrew tries his best to keep everyone in check

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This chapter is again a bit shorter due to the heavy (ish) content and also because I wanted to divide the Riko shit a little.  
> This is also where the panic attack warning applies, starting with the line "That wasn’t a question." and ending with "...Neil finally came to himself". I don't find it too graphic, but it's better to be safe!

The day passed in a slow blur of rain and sun.

Nicky spent it worrying about the camp and worrying about Kevin, another wrinkle to set deep in his forehead. The camp was as ready for visitors as it could be, clean and mostly fixed up, fresh sheets piling in the laundry room and wooden floors polished.

Kevin was as ready for Riko’s taunts as anyone could. He masked the stink of vodka with expensive cologne and hid his bitten off nails under the sleeves of his cashmere sweater. He would not sleep that night, and so when Andrew found him dozing off on the sofa, he simply closed the door to the entertainment room.

A therapist once told Andrew that victims had an easier time sharing their traumas with other victims. Andrew had refused to see the woman again after their first sitting, something off about the way the tilt of her head and the twitch of her mouth, but that one sentence stuck with him.

Not because he believed it, but because he had considered it.

He thought about it still, sometimes, when he looked at Kevin and recognized the daze of past pains in Kevin’s eyes. But the one time Andrew opened his mouth to speak, water filled his lungs. It was a flood as bad as the one three years ago.

As Andrew held the old copy of Harry Potter in his hand, opened on the page where his own handwriting decorated the edge of the text, he thought about it again.

She wasn’t wrong; not really.

But she wasn’t right either, because Andrew wouldn’t get a word out without drowning. He doubted that image would help Kevin in any way.

-

Neil may as well be declared a ghost.

They didn’t meet, but the cup Nicky had assigned Neil was still warm when Andrew stalked into the kitchen. They didn’t meet but Neil’s door creaked open down the hall just as Andrew shut his.

Neil may as well be declared a ghost, keen on haunting Andrew.

Andrew wondered if Neil would run away that night. He wondered if Neil was packing up his duffle bag, maybe stealing some food from the pantry, and waiting for everyone to fall asleep to slip out of the camp.

Perhaps that was why Andrew lingered in his room that night, sitting by the window with his lighter and nothing else to entertain him. He didn’t dare to bring the Harry Potter copy into the privacy of his room.

Andrew was giving Neil a chance.

He knew that until the clock ticked away the midnight, Neil was free. If he caught Neil sneaking around, he would turn his gaze away. He would not hold Neil accountable for his word, would not hunt him down. Not if Neil left before the midnight.

But Neil did not leave. Instead, around one in the morning, Neil pointed a harsh ray of white light at Andrew’s window and held it.

The breeze was cold on Andrew’s cheeks as he opened the window and stuck his head out, half curious about Neil’s decision and mostly irritated with the blinding light.

Neil didn’t turn the flashlight off, opting to trace Andrew’s form with the ray. Andrew forced himself not to shield his eyes as he stared down at him.

“Do you mind.”

Neil aimed the light right under the window. “A little.”

Andrew reached to close the window in dismissal, only to be stopped by the light on his face again. Andrew hadn’t thought about blinding his enemies before, but perhaps Neil was creative like that.

“What?” Andrew snapped.

At least Neil didn’t think of throwing stones.

“Come outside,” Neil called.

Andrew hissed at him, leaning out of the window as far as his body went willingly. “Why.”

“Because something tells me you wouldn’t open the door if I knocked.”

“You aren’t wrong.”

“Then come outside.”

Andrew tapped his fingers against the wooden window sill. Nicky once suggested to buy some outside flowers to hang there, but Andrew argued that he wouldn’t care for them. Maybe Andrew would get one after all, a cactus to throw at anyone trying to sweet-talk him outside after Andrew had changed into his pyjama.

“What’s in it for me?” Andrew asked.

“Let me think about it as I wait for you to come outside,” Neil said and turned the flashlight off.

Andrew couldn’t see him anymore, but he knew where he would find Neil.

-

Blowing the hair out his eyes, Neil sat on the stairs of the main building. He didn’t look back at the soft click of the door and he didn’t turn to look as Andrew settled a good foot away from him, cursing under his breath about the cold stone.

He held two cigarettes between his pale fingers, a peace offering and a bait. Andrew snatched it anyway.

“What do you expect?” Neil asked, his words so quiet that Andrew caught on the unvoiced part of the question in a heartbeat.

It hit too close to home, the nagging worry of expectations, the need to please even those one loathed. Andrew would recognize it with or without years of forced therapy.

“Not much,” Andrew said and somehow it was the right thing to tell Neil. “You are the very last resort – the very last layer between Kevin and Riko if something goes wrong.”

Neil nodded, pressing the cigarette to his relief parted lips. Andrew shouldn’t notice details like that.

“I need to know you are aware of the stakes.”

“I am.”

Andrew stubbed the cigarette against the top stair and tossed it into the bin. “Then as long as you follow the instructions, nothing is to go wrong.”

-

Closing the door, Andrew’s eyes slid to the drawers next to his desk, plain and boring, and he knew. He knew the first sign, wasn’t enough of a fool to ignore it as he did two years ago.

It was near impossible to hold Andrew’s interest, Kevin had once said to his teammates. Andrew had laughed, shallow and sharp, because the world had to be ironic like that.

Kevin did lose Andrew’s interest eventually, but that was only because he had never noticed it in the first place.

-

“But he knows you are twins, right?” Neil asked.

Slumped in his now usual seat in the corner of the kitchen, Neil observed the twins with more intent than Andrew would have liked. Neil self-inviting himself to the process of erasing Aaron was a mistake in Andrew’s calculations.

“Of course he does,” Andrew said. “That doesn’t mean he can tell us apart.”

Andrew handed Aaron a new pair of black armbands. They matched Andrew’s own, ever-present. Aaron accepted the bands with a surprisingly low amount of disgust and slid them on.

Watching Aaron’s pale skin disappear under black, Andrew refused to feel any sort of way about his brother becoming his mirror once more. He refused to meet Neil’s insistent gaze, boring holes into the side of Andrew’s head, too.

“How?” Neil asked.

“We are twins,” Andrew deadpanned.

“It’s not really a plan,” Aaron said, surprising both Andrew and Neil with his civil tone.

Andrew finished for him. “But it will keep him distracted for a while. He will expect Kevin to be with me every second.”

“And when Kevin is not, he will be confused,” Neil summarised. He caught on pretty fast.

Aaron nodded, stretching out and flexing his arms.

“It’s not difficult to tell you apart though,” Neil mumbled, like it was an afterthought that escaped him.

Aaron huffed at the implication.

Andrew expected that to be the end of it, but he made the mistake of looking up. Neil’s expression, unguarded for barely a second, was honest about things Andrew didn’t have enough courage to contemplate before the look was gone.

Andrew had almost given up and asked him to elaborate, but Nicky chose that moment to enter the kitchen with Kevin on his heels and the plan set into motion.

-

“Give me your number,” Andrew told Neil.

They stood in front of the main gate, Andrew smoking while Neil wasted money by letting his cigarette burn down to the filter without taking a drag. Some days, the quirk bothered Andrew to the point of his blood boiling.

Some days, like that misty morning, Andrew came close to acceptance of Neil’s strange habit.

“Number?”

“Phone number. So we can reach you if necessary.”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“Why?”

Andrew turned to face Neil just in time to see him latching onto the first lie crossing his mind, and he couldn’t bring himself to be surprised when Neil said:

“I’m poor.”

Andrew stared at him. Perhaps if he didn’t blink for long enough, Neil’s skin would melt and his skull crack open, allowing Andrew to check if Neil truly hid a brain in that big head of his. Andrew assumed all he would find would be an exy ball.

“I will get you one then,” Andrew said. “For now, Nicky can lend you his old one.”

“I don’t want it.”

Andrew’s eyes burned, begging to be shut closed and never opened again. The painkillers he stole from the kitchen were yet to beat the migraine set on killing him before he had the chance to face Riko.

“That wasn’t a question.”

Neil’s hand flew to his cheek, his cigarette now rolling on the ground. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of his burn, skin paling under his nails. Neil was still looking at Andrew, but his gaze wandered miles away, straight through Andrew.

After two years of his side glued to Kevin’s, Andrew would recognize that sort of panic anywhere. It was blinding, dragging you back through the sea of memories, and Andrew had triggered it.

“Neil,” Andrew said, in vain.

Andrew dropped his cigarette, no longer caring about the waste as it joined Neil’s.

Neil reacted to the name only when he focused on his surroundings. Andrew tried a few more times anyway, and when that proved to be hopeless, he reached out. He couldn’t afford the time to loathe himself for it – there would always be later.

Neil startled at Andrew’s hand curling around his fingers, tugging on them. Neil’s nails had left angry white lines in the scarred skin, spoke of hatred that Andrew didn’t know how to categorize.

“Neil.”

Andrew didn’t drop Neil’s hand just yet, squeezing his fingers until he feared crushing the fine bones.

“Neil,” Andrew said again, his voice hoarse. “Breathe.”

Neil crumbled like a house of cards, dragging Andrew down on the ground with him. He sucked in one shaky breath after another, eyes filling with tears. He didn’t acknowledge Andrew’s touch and so neither did Andrew.

He looked just like on that terrible photo in the news. Worse.

Andrew’s heart gave a painful pang and Andrew wished it turned to stone. His hand burned over Neil’s freezing fingers.

Over the years, Andrew had learnt how to handle his own moments of weakness. It had never, not even with Kevin as a new addition in his life, occurred to him to ask how to help others. All he could do, could think of doing, was squeezing Neil’s hand and wait for Neil to battle his demons on his own.

It was a twisted, sick show to have the front row tickets for.

As soft raindrop began to fall on Neil’s face, mixing with his tears, Neil finally came to himself. Andrew released his grip, yanking his hands back to his sides.

With an end of his frayed hoodie sleeve, Neil wiped his eyes. He avoided his scars.

Andrew lowered himself to rest on his calves, his knees only inches away from Neil’s. If moved then, however, it would only bring Neil’s attention to the movement, to the proximity. Andrew needed him to focus.

“I-“ Neil started and stopped himself.

He titled his head up to the sky and Andrew noticed a thin scar on the underside of his jaw. A cut along the bone, easy to miss once the wound healed. The first sign, the hundredth.

“I can’t,” Neil pushed through gritted teeth. “He will find me, I can’t-“

Andrew wasn’t one for empty promises. He wouldn’t tell Neil no one would find him, because someone might. They both knew that.

“Alright,” Andrew said.

Neil’s gaze snapped to him. That photo could as well had been taken that year. Andrew’s eyes danced across his face, searching for anything that would give Neil’s secrets away.

Neil locked them behind the ice of his gaze.

-

Riko wasn’t unpleasant at first sight.

It was only when you looked at him for the second time, closely, that his smile seemed off. It stretched too wide and too crooked, was too cold to be anything but cruel.

Dressed in black from head to toe, Riko pretended to be someone much more important than he was as he stepped in the main building in a suit and already muddy dress shoes. He strode to the front desk with nose up and chest puffed, as if asking Andrew to jump over the counter and knock him down.

Be it anyone else, Andrew would.

What made Riko powerful wasn’t the strength or even talent. It was the name and the money behind him, and against that, even Andrew came up short-handed.

“Andrew,” Riko greeted him, his voice as sharp as the blades tucked against Andrew’s skin.

Riko stood a foot from the counter and measured Andrew with a glare that would have a man kneeling before him and kissing his expensive shoes. Andrew merely met his glare and didn’t say a word.

“I believe Kevin should be on duty?”

“We are extremely busy so early in the season,” Andrew said and waved his hand, as if to point at the empty camp. “I’m afraid Kevin’s talents are needed elsewhere and you must settle for my humble services.”

Riko squinted at him. “And I suppose you will not be willing to share Kevin’s location with me?”

Andrew tapped his fingers against the counter, still tingling where they just hours ago touched Neil’s. He pushed the thought aside and focused on the rhythm he knew irritated Riko – the Fox fan chants.

If Riko was the first one to throw the punch, Andrew would have an excuse and a reason. Self-defence no one would believe in with Andrew’s history and Riko’s wrongfully pristine criminal record.

“Not as willing as to show you off the property.”

Riko was smarter than starting a fistfight, of course. His smile stretched wider, eyes sliding to Andrew’s bands; he was no stranger to the knives Andrew carried around. Andrew’s hand itched for the deadliest of them.

“I will take your best cabin,” Riko said. “There will be plenty of chances to catch up with Kevin.”

“I will make sure there will be not,” Andrew said and handed him the keys to the worst cabin in the camp, left unattended and far away from the main building.

Far away from the cabin where Kevin was swallowing down his issues with vodka under Aaron’s watch, surrounded by the first campers.

Riko accepted the key and with one last disgusting smile, he left.

Andrew slipped two fingers in his left band and pulled out a thin, sharp blade. He toyed with it until his phone vibrated with Nicky’s message of the air being clean, Riko heading towards his hopefully soon collapsing cabin.

Pushing off the counter, Andrew tucked the knife back and headed to hold Kevin’s hair back. He stopped by the kitchen to grab some more painkillers too, for his own headache.

-

Andrew knocked twice, slowly, waited five seconds, knocked trice, fast. The door flew open.

“He hasn’t thrown up yet,” Aaron announced solemnly. Looking at him didn’t get any easier since the morning.

Behind Aaron, Kevin lied on one of the three beds and stared at his once broken, now healed wrist. He was mumbling something in French.

“I count that as a win,” Andrew said.

He pushed past Aaron and settled on the opposite bed, picking up the empty bottle from the ground where Kevin had left it.

“I will have you start paying for these,” Andrew told Kevin. “Nicky doesn’t give me enough for this shit.”

Kevin answered him in French, which Andrew pointedly ignored. He doubted Kevin understood any language in his wasted daze, but he couldn’t get past French being his language of choice.

“How did it go?” Aaron asked, startling Andrew with the unfamiliar interest in literally anything.

It was the weirdest, possibly the worst day for surprises.

“Okay,” Andrew said. “He will go around looking for Kevin soon.”

Kevin didn’t react to his name being spoken, circling his wrist as the doctors had him do after they had taken his plaster off. Andrew didn’t wish to know how dark his thoughts were then.

Aaron nodded, hand still on the door handle. Whatever question lay on his tongue, he hated himself for asking it before it had even left his mouth.

“What about the stranger?”

Andrew wasn’t naïve to call the emotion behind Aaron’s eyes concern, but it was his sort of self-concerned worry nevertheless.

“He is helping Nicky,” Andrew said. “It is for the best if he just blends in as another part-timer.”

“Hard for him to blend in,” Aaron said, but his words lacked their usual bite.

Andrew wondered what he had missed, but before he could think of a way to ask, Aaron was out of the cabin.

Kevin babbled in French still, repeating what Andrew assumed to be the numbers of his team. Andrew popped the pain killer in his mouth and swallowed it dry, mourning the emptiness of the bottle.

-

Andrew had spent the rest of the day locked away with Kevin in the cabin while the others put on a show for Riko. No texts brought Andrew’s phone to life, which meant Riko had not cornered them yet.

The whole day, after sleeping the vodka off, Kevin had been restless. He was not used to sitting on his hands and doing nothing. Andrew felt an itch under his skin from watching Kevin alone, but he didn’t have a problem with sitting down while others worked.

Around midnight, Kevin rose to his feet.

“No,” Andrew said.

“Andrew,-“

“You can last three days without exy.”

“Doesn’t mean I should,” Kevin said, hands on hips. It would be funny, if only Kevin didn’t speak in complete seriousness. He could be infuriating like that. “He can’t control me here.”

“He controls you everywhere,” Andrew bit back. “He will expect you there. Don’t force me to cut your dear brother open on the court. We had just cleaned it up.”

Kevin flinched not at the threat but at the family association.

“I am going,” Kevin said anyway. “You either come along or not.”

And of course, Andrew did come along. Kevin had his word, and he wouldn’t step back from it, no matter how annoying Kevin could be. No matter how stupid he could be.

They left the cabin behind them in silence, Andrew lighting his probably hundredth cigarette that day. The court soon came in their sight and along with it, a single figure. Under the moonlight, it was hard to tell who it was, but Andrew had only two guesses.

He didn’t know which one of them was worse if he looked at the bigger picture.

Kevin stopped dead in his tracks, chest puffed with the breath stuck in his throat, and watched the person for a whole second. Then he sighed.

“It’s Neil.”

Andrew didn’t move, but he asked, “Are you sure?”

“The goddamn footwork,” Kevin said like the was the most obvious way to recognize a person from another and strode to the court ahead of Andrew.

Andrew considered turning around and leaving the two of them for death.

He didn’t.

By the time he stepped into the earshot of their argument, Kevin had long forgotten about Riko’s whole existence. The man had priorities. Andrew apparently missed the moment when Neil’s questionable career made it to the top of that list.

Then again, neither of them had any non-exy-infected brain cells left in their heads.

“Pull the racquet off your ass!”

“Not until you take the racquet in your hand and learn how to play!”

Andrew picked up two of the abandoned balls. Kevin caught the one coming his way even without paying full attention, but Neil’s luck abandoned his side that night. The ball hit his stomach hard enough for him to bend over, wheezing while Kevin stared at him unfazed.

Neil stared at Andrew. “Is throwing shit a thing of yours?”

“Stick around to find out or don’t,” Andrew said as he settled on the side bench. “I don’t care either way.”

Neil seemed to have more words for Andrew, but Kevin wouldn’t let him spit them out. He criticised Neil some more and then announced that instead of playing, Neil would be learning drills to practice on his own.

Andrew leaned back on the bench and watched the tiny clouds on the dark sky, the rare stars that one could see only far away from the city, and stubbed his cigarette against the old concrete under the bench.

He lighted another.

If he felt a pair of icy eyes on him each time Kevin allowed a break, Andrew didn’t address it.

He did not think about it hours later, when he and Kevin finally dragged themselves back to their cabin and fell into their beds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the great writing advice is not to start the scenes with describing the weather, but consider:  
> The mood. The atmosphere. The drama of it all


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Neil keeps his promise to Andrew at a great cost, Kevin gets curious about the stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I got a job I never thought I could get (I mean teaching at college, hello ???), so let's celebrate with an early chapter that was once again cut shot because it contained too much information at once .. I swear to god, the Riko visit seems to never end:/
> 
> Trigger warning for another panic attack moment, which starts at the line “ Neil’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths that Andrew recognized for what they were” and ends at “ Against all odds, Neil did”

The longer Kevin avoided Riko, the worse would the reunion go.

Last year had been a learning experience, to say mildly. Riko’s visit had lasted almost a week; just enough time for Kevin to grow his first grey hair and Andrew consider taking up boxing lessons only to finally punch something.

Kevin, better than anyone, knew that every victory was built upon great sacrifices, but that didn’t make dragging him out of the bed in the morning any easier. Andrew was a fool for not stacking up on painkillers when he had the chance.

They walked through the door of the dining room an hour later to find most of the food trays empty. Andrew shot Kevin a deadly stare as he was forced to fill his plate with bland green non-sense.

“At least you won’t get out of shape,” Kevin muttered behind Andrew.

His own plate was barely half of his normal portion, giving away his nerves even as he tried to keep his face. Andrew grabbed the sad-looking pair of cherry tomatoes and placed them in Kevin’s weird salad.

“What would I keep in shape for?” Andrew asked. “Prison fights?”

Kevin sighed, but didn’t pick up the fight.

A few of the first visitors sat scattered around the room still. Most of them were regulars Andrew recognized, greeting Andrew and Kevin as they passed them. While Kevin offered his best customer service smile, Andrew nodded at the least annoying ones.

They settled by the table in the corner of the room, the one Neil often claimed for himself. It gave the best view of the door, Andrew realised as he sunk down on the cushioned chair.

Kevin poked his food more than he ate. When Andrew couldn’t watch him any longer, he pulled out his phone to stare at it without really paying attention to the terrible photos people decided to post online. 

Neil joined them only minutes later, as if he had waited for them to arrive. Andrew wouldn’t put it past him. Taking the seat by Kevin’s right, he hummed his greeting and dug into his bagel. 

“Where did you get it?” Andrew asked. 

Confused, Neil looked himself over and when he found nothing out of place, his eyes slid up to Andrew’s face. Finally, they landed on Andrew’s overly green, untouched plate and realisation dawned on him.

“The kitchen?”

Andrew pressed his lips together, counted to ten. “Nicky saved you food?”

“Yeah.”

“Of fucking course.”

Neil shrugged, obvious to the privilege as Nicky’s new favourite. His only saving grace was the fact he tore a good chunk of the bagel and tossed it at Andrew.

Andrew caught it by reflex and by the gleam in Neil’s eye, that was a wrong move. Exy maniac. Andrew stuffed the bagel in his mouth and dared Neil to get back on his non-sense with a glare.

Neil rolled his eyes and opted for stealing Andrew’s plate. Andrew let him, not interested in the vegetables anyway.

If Kevin noticed the exchange, he didn’t comment on it. 

Neither of them had spoken a word until Andrew caught sight of Aaron standing in the door, his usually passive face painted with distress. 

Perhaps underneath all that indifference and disgust laid a real person. Andrew didn’t have time to think about it, already in motion.

Perhaps underneath all that indifference and disgust hid a hope. Andrew didn’t have time to think about it.

Riko approached them grinning from ear to ear, step sure. He sat in front of Kevin without any fanfare about his assigned seat, dressed in a suit that was just a shade lighter than the one he wore the other day.

“Kevin,” Riko said. “It’s been so long.”

Kevin had turned into a statue next to Andrew, his rigid fingers digging into the wood of his chair where Riko wouldn’t see. Andrew guessed Riko didn’t need to see Kevin’s hands when he could see the terror written all over Kevin’s face. 

Kevin didn’t reply, but Riko didn’t travel all that way to listen to what Kevin had to say. 

“Are you well? I am sorry about the last game,” he said and even a stranger would know he was not one bit sorry about the crushing defeat Kevin had suffered at the beginning of the spring. 

In all the honesty that Andrew was willing to offer to anyone, that early loss was for the best. There was no telling how Kevin would handle facing Riko on the court, in front of hundreds of people. 

Baby steps, the university therapist had told Andrew. Kevin was taking baby steps away from Riko. And even if it was slow and painful, it was a progress. 

“We will do better next year,” Kevin said, voice shaky around his words. He sounded like a child in a room full of adults looking down at him. 

Andrew knew that being overheard was one of Kevin’s least problems while growing up. The biggest one sat a mere foot across from him, unpredictable and cruel in his ways. Andrew couldn’t assure Kevin would be safe during the visit, but he counted on Riko’s obsession with popularity and his unwillingness to stain it by doing something reckless in public.

“I highly doubt that, but I do wish you luck,” Riko said.

“Kevin will beat you anywhere and anytime,” Neil cut in.

Riko considered with a bored look. “Then why didn’t he yet?”

“Maybe because his hand had been so mysteriously broken and healing,” Neil said, pulling an exaggerative thinking face. “Makes you wonder just how one shatters his wrist while skiing. Almost as if it was intentional.”

Riko leaned across the table to be met with a steel blade peeking through Andrew’s fingers, glinting in the morning light. Riko didn’t miss it, but chose to ignore it. A sane man would pay attention to the knife pointed at him. 

Riko wasn’t a sane man, but he had to know that Andrew had nothing to lose and everything to gain by taking him off the land of the living.

“Kevin, I do hope you will let your guard dog play for a while so we can have a chat later,” Riko said, straightening in his seat. “Maybe you can lose the mongrel as well.”

“I work full time,” Andrew said. He didn’t like the comparison – if he had been a dog, he would bite first and bark later. 

Riko laughed. 

He didn’t linger for Kevin’s agreement or disproval as he stood, dusting his suit off. Andrew’s relief crept halfway through his throat and stuck there when Riko turned back, and smiled that chilling grin of his. 

Andrew’s skin crawled with the mere sight of him.

“I’m sure even you take breaks,” Riko said.

Andrew would make sure he did not.

-

After breakfast, they all lingered in the kitchen. Kevin was so out of it that he let Nicky tell him about the show he came up with, even nodding every now and then. He was yet to scold Neil for running his mouth too.

Andrew nursed his headache with a painkiller and settled beside Neil at the end of the table. 

Back against the wall, Andrew allowed himself to close his eyes for a second, relieving the ache behind his eyelids. The sounds of the kitchen became muted, Nicky possibly lowering his volume on purpose. Andrew enjoyed it while it lasted, which he was sure wouldn’t be long.

One day, always being right would prove to be annoying. 

The movement next to him was subtle, barely noticeable as it was calm and slow, but Andrew had spent too much of his life terrified not to sense it nevertheless.

Andrew opened his eyes to a piece of folded paper in front of him, tore from the block Nicky keeps for shopping lists. A pen sat on top of it. Neil was innocently gazing out of the window, but Andrew caught the twitch of his lip as he reached for the paper.

A note. Andrew counted to ten and back before he read it.

In Neil’s honestly ugly handwriting, the smudged note read:

_‘why are you and K staying out?’_

Andrew picked the pen up and wrote a simple answer:

_‘last year R came banging at K’s door in the middle of the night’_

Andrew folded the paper again and slid it back towards Neil. How silly it was, when Neil could had just texted him. If he had a phone, that was.

Neil frowned at the paper for a long while before he clicked the pen and began scribbling another note.

_‘why let him come at all?’_

Because it wasn’t that easy, Andrew wanted to say. Because they lived in a world where famous was a synonym for a saint. Where victims were the ones to blame for all the wrong done to them. 

But Andrew wasn’t ready for that conversation and neither was the world, so he settled for:

_‘it’s a deal they have_

_R comes, takes some photos to post and say how much they love each other, and doesn’t bother K for the rest of the year’_

Neil’s reply was almost enough to make Andrew laugh.

_‘he could have just found and hired a double_

_many japanese middle schoolers would be grateful for the opportunity to start their acting career’_

Andrew wrote back:

_‘bold of u to insult the height of someone still taller than you’_

Neil shrugged as he read the comment, but his face was clear of any offence. He passed the now full paper with a blank expression, but his handwriting was neater this time, all of his sass in black ink.

_‘bold of you to assume his height puts him anywhere above me’_

Andrew bit his own smirk down as he fished out his lighter and flicked it under the paper, letting it burn down between his fingers. He let it fall into his empty cup just as the flame reached to lick his skin and when Nicky started nagging him for making a mess, he could only shrug.

-

As much as Andrew would have liked to simply lock himself and Kevin in the cabin for the rest of the day, he wasn’t going to risk the contest of who could lose their mind faster. He was fairly sure he would win.

Instead, they busied themselves in the gym for two hours. Andrew had taken both of the gym keys just in case and let them out of sight only behind the locked door.

Kevin’s work out routine was as annoying as about everything Kevin, but especially when he tried to get Andrew to follow it as well. Cardio and stretching, a waste of time and energy. Andrew showed Kevin a finger and stuck to his typical weights.

For all of Kevin’s irksome complaints, he didn’t push the curtains over the mirrors open and so Andrew answered every fifth sentence of his.

Andrew couldn’t stand to see himself that day. He couldn’t face himself when Aaron was out there, an almost perfect reflection of him, running around as bait. He couldn’t face himself when Neil’s words still rung in his ears, demanding to be heard.

_It was not difficult to tell them apart._

For Nicky and Kevin, it wasn’t. The team took some time to get the twins right without any hints, but their percentage of success was now ninety-nine. 

And Neil.

Neil had known them for three weeks. After that period, Andrew would accept the skill. But as far as Andrew knew, Neil had not once mistaken one for another. If he did, Aaron would had been either vocal or violent about it. 

Not difficult to tell them apart.

It was the exact opposite that Andrew counted on.

-

While Kevin barricaded himself in the bathroom to take a shower, Andrew pushed open the tiny window in the hall. It gave with a loud squeak, its frame old and rusty. 

Andrew dusted the plastic ledge with the back of his already stained sleeve and muffled his cough against his shoulder. He pulled out his first cigarette of the day, long overdue. Nicky would forgive him for breaking the no-smoking inside rules, just this once.

Leaning against the windowsill, Andrew gazed outside. 

Nothing much hid behind the main building; some trash of the previous owner like an old washing machine and three tires pushed against the fence. Threes surrounded the camp on all sides, taller than any of those Andrew was used to seeing around the cities, but a proper forest laid east, separated from the camp by a narrow field. 

Andrew would only barely catch the sunflowers in their bloom that year. He didn’t think he appreciated the sight enough when he was still a free man. Then again, life had never been kind enough to allow Andrew to appreciate the little things. 

Sunsets meant danger and long car rides meant another mask glued to his face. Rain meant floods and gifts meant a leash. 

At the sound of soft steps up the stairs, Andrew stubbed the cigarette and tossed it outside, a reflex more than anything. The worst Nicky would do was adding some annoying task on Andrew’s to-do list. 

Neil stopped at the top of the stairs and did a double-take before he stalked to Andrew. He stared out of the window over Andrew’s shoulder and frowned.

“Where is Kevin?”

Andrew nodded towards the bathroom, where Kevin was wasting all the warm water again. 

“The dinner is served,” Neil said, like Andrew didn’t know the camps schedule. 

He stared at Andrew like dinner was the last thing on his mind, however. The crease between his brows irritated Andrew.

“What,” Andrew said.

Kevin chose that moment to burst through the bathroom door, fully dressed but with a damp towel hanging around his neck, hair dripping wet. He looked half godly and Andrew didn’t feel a thing, heartbeat steady and head clear of past tainted thoughts. 

No, instead Andrew’s fingers itched to smooth the harsh line of Neil’s forehead.

How foolish it was, to start appreciating pretty things only then.

“Let’s go,” Andrew told Kevin and didn’t look back as he headed to the staircase.

-

Dinner, much like the breakfast, gave Andrew a headache.

Riko was somewhat civilized as he ate with them, though not without obvious disgust written across his face. Andrew couldn’t decide if it was dedicated to the food or them, but he didn’t care either way. As long as they got out soon.

Across the room, one of the regulars decided to turn on the small TV hanging on the wall. People, Andrew’s lot included, barely used it, favouring the new flat screen in the entertainment room. 

Andrew didn’t pay it attention for the sake of observing Riko and that’s how he was the first one to spot the cruel gleam in his eyes. Andrew followed his line of sight and felt his heart stop for one terrifying second.

It was the time of the evening news.

“Nathaniel,” Riko purred. 

Beside rather confused Kevin, Neil chocked on his steak. He spat it out back into his plate and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his grey t-shirt, face three shades paler. He dropped his fork, but clutched his knife tighter. 

The clink of the fork against the plate alarmed Kevin into sitting impossibly straighter than he had been the whole time. Under the table, Andrew patted his knee three times, an old signal. 

Andrew despised he had to use it now.

Riko enjoyed the show with a pleased grin stretching his lips, revealing his perfectly white teeth. He was so small without his own dogs by his side, so easy to mistake for someone harmless was it not the look in his eye. 

“I thought you looked familiar this morning,” Riko continued in even voice. “Your family must be overjoyed that you have found yourself a summer job.”

Although Neil was clutching the knife for dear life, much like Kevin, he sat paralysed. 

It was his second reaction that differed from Kevin’s and was bound to make Andrew’s life that much harder.

“One shouldn’t rely on the money of their family their entire life,” Neil said. “I suppose you wouldn’t understand that.”

Riko’s smile froze on his lips.

Kevin finally gathered himself enough to rise to his feet. Tugging on Neil’s sleeve in a desperate attempt to move Neil, he avoided Riko’s cold stare just as Andrew had taught him. 

Neil didn’t budge until Riko pushed his chair from the table. In a blur of motion, the two of them stood face to face, Kevin’s fingers still tangled in the fabric of Neil’s top.

“Kevin-“ Riko begun, cut himself off as Neil stepped in front of Kevin. 

“You were talking to me,” Neil bit out. 

Riko stared Neil down, eyes tearing Neil’s skin off his body before his hands could. How Neil didn’t shatter under that look, Andrew didn’t know. He was so sure Neil would crumble any moment, but Neil stood his ground. 

Keeping his promise.

Kevin let go of Neil, scrambling backwards until his back collided with Andrew’s chest. Andrew steadied him with a hand on his tense shoulder.

“Now, Kevin,” he whispered and Kevin bolted out of the dining room.

To Aaron in the kitchen, possibly. To his room, maybe. Anywhere away from Riko and the murder in his eyes.

“It was silly of me to overlook you, I must admit,” Riko said. “Especially when you are practically a TV star. To be on a run for almost a month, that takes skill. Talent, even.”

“It’s nice to know that even though you lack it, you can still recognize it in others,” Neil said. “Is that why you are so obsessed with Kevin?”

Andrew didn’t wait for any more remarks or Riko’s outburst of rage as he crossed the distance between him and Neil. He tapped Neil’s arm, once, and spent a whole second certain Neil wouldn’t listen and cause more damage than he already had.

He didn’t expect Neil to be keen on living; not after almost running him over in the storm and not after Neil had the nerve to call out Riko for being the spoiled bastard he was. Telling the truth always came with a price.

Neil gazed at Andrew – Andrew felt those icy eyes on his profile – and at last stepped back to hover behind Andrew, just barely. 

“You understand nothing,” Riko barked out. “You are nothing.”

“Takes one to recognize one,” Neil said, set on making things more difficult than they had to be. Andrew should had known.

Riko made the mistake of leaning closer, close enough for Andrew to press his favourite blade against Riko’s chest, right over the gap between his ribs. No one would see it. They would connect the dots, but it would had been too late.

“Careful where you are going,” Andrew murmured. “We don’t want any accidents on your peaceful family weekend, do we?”

Nothing else to do, Riko jerked back. 

It was not the end; Andrew knew as he watched Riko storm off the dining room. 

It was the beginning of something terrible.

Andrew slid his knife back against his skin and braced himself for the damage control. Blowing out a breath of pent up tension and anger, he turned his head to the side to scold Neil and to question him. However, his frustration didn’t make it past his lips.

Neil’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths that Andrew recognized for what they were. The panicked realisation of what had happened.

He grabbed the back of Neil’s neck and dragged him out of the dining room, to the storage room far down the hall. Neil let himself to be led on shaky legs, barely holding himself up when Andrew let go of him to open the door and tugged Neil inside.

Neil leaned against the wall and slid down, head falling into his hands as he wheezed.

Andrew shut the door behind them and followed Neil down. He gripped Neil’s neck again, tighter this time. He could hate himself a little more when Neil’s lungs were his own again.

“Breathe,” Andrew said, command more than a suggestion or a comfort. “You are okay. Now breathe.”

Against all odds, Neil did. He sucked in breath after another, blowing them out through the gaps between his fingers. Andrew’s nails burrowed into his soft skin, but Andrew did not retreat until Neil raised his head to nod his assurance.

Andrew sat back on his heels and folded his hands in his lap, careful as he watched for any last waves of Neil’s panic. None came.

Neil curled into himself on the floor, knees pulled to his chest and forehead resting against them. All Andrew could see of him then was the mess of his ginger hair, his roots slightly darker than the rest of the curls when he paid enough attention.

He had no reason to.

Neil tilted his head to peak at Andrew through his hair, but thought long about his words. 

Andrew beat him to it.

“You are a stranger in my home,” Andrew reminded him and it felt wrong to do so. “I would prefer to know if there is any trouble to be brought along with you.”

“Are you going to throw me out now?” Neil asked, voice weak.

Andrew considered it. He considered sending Neil back on the empty road, with a single duffle bag and about four outfits. He imagined leaving Neil without a phone in the middle of nowhere, far from the relative safety of the camp.

Leaving Neil up to his fate would be easy, oh so easy. And yet, it didn’t sit well with Andrew, not the first night and not three weeks later.

“No.”

Neil sighed against the material of his worn-out jeans. 

Andrew’s eyes didn’t leave him. At that point, Andrew was sure it was physically impossible to keep the man out of his sight, out of his mind. Out of the trouble.

“He knows,” Neil said at least. “He will call them and they will find me here and I will have to go back to-“

“You will not,” Andrew said. “You will not have to go anywhere. Riko will not call anyone.”

Neil’s eyes gave away just how unconvinced he was by Andrew’s confidence.

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“Because as much of power he has over Kevin, Kevin has over him.”

Neil snapped his eyes shut and Andrew rose to his feet before he got any stupid ideas.

“This talk isn’t over,” Andrew told him and slipped outside the storage room.

-

Shaken by the day’s events, Kevin didn’t attempt to leave the cabin that night. 

Andrew opened the window and sat by it, cigarette in hand. To avoid Nicky’s comical wrath, he took care to blow the smoke outside only. As a sign of his distress, Kevin didn’t say a word about Andrew breaking one of the very few rules that applied to him.

The two of them had long been tucked in their beds, rolling around and yet unsuccessful in greeting sleep, when Kevin spoke up.

“What is your pact with him anyway?” he asked. 

Andrew stared up at the blank ceiling, arms folded under his head. He had kept his bands on his arms, the shapes of the blades calming against his too-thin skin.

“Neil, I mean,” Kevin added, as if that much wasn’t obvious.

Andrew hadn’t told him anything except there was a new guy with an interest in exy, the only information Kevin usually cared about when it came to people. Now it wasn’t only Andrew with a head full of questions.

“I almost killed him the night I arrived,” Andrew said. “I was driving here in the storm and didn’t notice him until the last minute. He was miles away from any town or village, had nothing but one bag. I offered him a place to stay the night.”

Kevin hummed as he processed the story he didn’t seem attracted to until that night. “Riko called him Nathaniel,” he said in the darkness. “That means he knows as much as we do.”

Andrew rolled to his side, back pressed against the wall as he faced Kevin. He couldn’t see much except for Kevin’s outline. “Yeah.”

“Will you offer him the deal?”

Andrew traced one of the blades over the thick fabric of the black band. “You speak of the deal as if it is a thing.”

Kevin shifted in his sheets and clicked his tongue. “It has always been a thing,” he said. “You only refuse to see it as such.”

“You read too much into this. What would he offer in return?”

“What did I bring in return?”

Andrew remembered the day he met Kevin better than most days, and that was saying something. 

Kevin had introduced himself while bruised beyond recognition, left wrist in plaster and cheek freshly tattooed with a stupid number. He had promised Andrew anything for protection, believing what others did, and Andrew told him he wouldn’t forget Kevin’s word.

Then Andrew’s twenty-first birthday came along with the letter, a court stamped countdown of his freedom.

“A lawyer,” Andrew said.

Kevin knew the end of a conversation when he heard one.

-

And no matter that Kevin’s layer would not be able to do much in August, Andrew considered Kevin’s end of the deal fulfilled. 

-

Andrew woke up long before anyone else. 

He didn’t need to turn on any lights as he slipped outside, but the sun was yet to rise. He crouched down by the stairs of the cabin, the tips of his boots damp with the dew. 

For the first time in a long time, Andrew lighted the cigarette not out of the habit, but with the intention to enjoy it. 

Once he sat behind the bars to rot away, the luxury of smoking whenever would be taken away from him with everything else. He would say goodbye to Aaron’s cooking and Nicky’s silent care, Kevin’s rare moments of sincerity and –

Andrew stopped the thought there. That was all he would miss, nothing else. Andrew didn’t deserve to miss even those little things, much less anything more.

Neil didn’t make a sound as he approached and sat on the step beside Andrew, legs dangling in front of him. His sneakers disappeared in the grass, bound to get soaked soon.

Andrew tore his eyes away and felt a pair of icy ones on him in return. He didn’t know what to make of the strange dance.

“How is Kevin?” Neil asked, his voice so quiet it might as well had been the wind.

Andrew raised his cigarette to his lips, wanted to laugh. It had burnt all the way down to the filter without him taking a single drag. He let it fall on the ground and crushed it under his boot. So much for enjoying a simple pleasure.

“Alive,” Andrew said. 

He needed Kevin to survive the visit first. 

Only when Riko was long past the gates he could start picking up the pieces of Kevin’s shattered psyche. But Kevin could still make it, could become a normal person once. Kevin still had goals and dreams, knew how to laugh even if the memory felt distant. 

Kevin could, _would_ , survive Riko, no matter what Andrew had to sacrifice.

“Was Riko really the one to break Kevin’s hand back then?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. 

To those who knew where to look, the clues were hard to miss. Andrew didn’t take Neil for an observant person, but all things considered, that was yet another misstep on Andrew’s side.

Andrew reached for the cigarette box in his back pocket and drew one stick out. He paused for a second and then held the box out to Neil because somewhere along the line, sharing became natural.

Neil pulled out a cigarette and Andrew stuffed the box back in his pocket, lightning both of their cigarettes. He kept his tongue behind his teeth as Neil let his burn down between his fingers, wasting the nicotine on purpose. 

Neil didn’t mourn its loss. 

He bent his legs and pushed his knees to his chest, the gesture by now more familiar to Andrew than he would like to admit. Neil’s worn-out sneakers were damp just as Andrew had predicted. He looked timeless then, the first sun rays falling on his face and sneaking through the curls of his hair, brighter than anything Andrew had seen. 

How vain it was for Andrew to appreciate beauty. How foolish it was, to trade one scarred pretty face for another, one worse than the other. How stupid it was, to realise only so late that he did have a type after all.

How terrifying it was, to know that he was a human after all, with a heart soft and mind tangled, so easily breakable. How petrifying it was, to want despite all the scars and wounds that would never heal.

Somewhere in the distance, music started playing in one of the cabins. The world around them was waking up, and not for the first time Andrew wished it would sleep for just a little longer.

Andrew savoured the last bits of the peace and braced himself for the day. He couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by Neil and not by his own thoughts. 

By the time Andrew finished his cigarette and rose to his feet, Neil had returned to the present, his shoulders slouched. For a man who faced Riko just a few hours prior, he looked too fragile to be left on his own.

“Be careful,” Andrew told Neil and left him to interpret the words however he liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again
> 
> This chapter was heavy on new information, so if you didn't understand anything or simply have any follow-up questions, just ask away and I will tell you as much as I can without spoiling anything!
> 
> Also, as this fic is getting longer and I'm getting tired, I would like to take a break by writing a lil something different, maybe some missing scenes with Neil? If you are interested in that or even a specific missing scene, let me know and I will see what I can come up with!
> 
> Have a great day yall and stay away from Rikos


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After encouragement from Neil, Kevin decides to ignore Andrew's rules while Neil proves himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Once again, this chapter is short because of lot of things happening and also because we finally closing the Riko chapter for now!
> 
> I am now only one chapter ahead in my WIP, so remember how I spoiled you at the beginning when the writer block hits lol
> 
> TW for violence, blood and mentions of abuse in this chapter

Andrew swallowed the painkiller with the iced coffee Nicky had made him. The drink was overly sweet, more milk than coffee, with five ice cubes at the bottom. No matter how disgusted Kevin seemed by the mere sight of the cup, it was perfect.

The coffee was where the list of all good, pleasant things ended that morning. They had gathered long before the breakfast to interrogate Neil and judging by the solemn look on his face, he was well aware.

“So,” Nicky started, “From what I’ve heard-“

Beside Andrew, Neil squirmed in his chair. He dipped his chin deep into the neckline of his hoodie, pulling the threadbare hem between his teeth. His sunburnt nose was mostly peeled off already, but the new skin still had a pinkish tint. Andrew found it hard to keep his eyes from drifting to it.

Neil dared to sneak a look at Kevin, who sat on Andrew’s right, and jerked back at whatever expression he found on Kevin’s face.

Kevin didn’t wake up to be merciful that morning, not when the problem in question involved pissing off Riko to the point of needing Andrew’s intervention. No, he woke up to be the person only his team knew him as, strict and unnerving. 

“Neil is fucking stupid,” Kevin finished for Nicky.

Across the room, Aaron hummed. If it was agreement or amusement, Andrew couldn’t tell, but he shot his brother a look nevertheless. Aaron wasn’t exactly the one to lecture others about the consequences of foolish decisions. Neither of them was, really.

Aaron raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“No need to be so harsh,” Nicky piped in.

“I’m sure they will be very gentle with his casket,” Kevin said. He ignored Nicky’s hiss and shifted in his seat to stare at Neil over Andrew. “What were you thinking? That Riko would laugh along and pat your back for your wits?”

Neil scowled, spat the chewed hem of his hoodie off. “I thought that Andrew wouldn’t rat me out.”

Kevin threw his hands in the air, barely missing Andrew in the process. “Oh my god, why wouldn’t he!”

Tired, Andrew pushed his chair back from the table a few inches. If Kevin and Neil wanted to fight, they would still have to jump over his lap, but at least he would avoid an unnecessary black eye. 

“I don’t know!”

“Do you actually have a death wish?” Kevin now yelled. “Because I can take you out myself just fine!”

Another hiss came from Nicky. Andrew caught his eye and nodded a firm assurance that there would, no matter the threats, be no murder at the kitchen table. Nicky sank further into his chair and stuffed his mouth with leftover crackers.

“Why don’t you deal with your crazy brother first!” Neil shouted back. “He only tortures you because you let him!”

Kevin’s shoulders rose up to his ears, his whole body held tense. Neil might mistake the posture for a fight stance, but Andrew knew Neil struck a sore spot. Poured pounds of salt into a still bleeding wound. 

Kevin, however, wasn’t the only one with a sore spot.

“Riko tortures everyone because he needs to feel superior,” Andrew cut in. “He tortures those who threaten his position and his skill, and he tortures those who as much as look at him wrong. He is a spoiled sadist before anything else, and you have no right to blame Kevin for that. Not you, not anyone.”

Neil recoiled at Andrew’s cold stare, the same way he did the night they met. Still a stranger.

Andrew expected him, with three perfectly round burn scars and anxiety, a boy on the run, to understand this issue as much as everyone at the table did. Not for the first time that weekend, in the last three weeks, Andrew was proven wrong. This time, however, it stung. 

Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, Neil huffed out a strangled laugh. “I know,” he said. “I know. I just-“

“You just don’t understand,” Kevin said, his voice back at indoors volume but still stern. 

Andrew sipped his coffee. Its taste turned sour.

“No,” Neil agreed easily. “So tell me.”

“Riko lives to be the number one because without it, he is nothing to his own family,” Kevin said. “He kept me around for this long only to make himself look better.”

Two years ago, Kevin wouldn’t dare to even say that much. He wouldn’t dare to talk about Riko at all. Kevin still sat a little too close to Andrew, still found Andrew’s eye before opening his mouth, but he managed to dig himself out of denial. 

Hearing him admit to being the victim sent a shiver down Andrew’s spine. Nicky looked proud for all of them.

“Then make him look like the scum he is,” Neil said. “Take that stupid number away from him.”

Andrew’s eyes darted to Kevin’s face, catching the moment his whole being settle. The previous tension drained out of his shoulders, determination taking its place.

“I will,” Kevin said.

Beside Andrew, Neil smiled something wicked.

-

While Kevin showered, Andrew sat on the top of the stairs. Neil joined him easily, sitting next to him as if he had nothing else to do. 

Andrew didn’t know what to make of the unasked company.

Neil pulled his hoodie over his head and folded it in his lap, the grey t-shirt underneath for once short-sleeved. Worn out like everything he owned, the neckline of the stretched t-shirt was loose. It revealed just the peak of Neil’s collarbone as he bent over to rest his elbows on his knees, staring down the stairs without a word.

Nothing in the universe could pull Andrew’s attention and hold it as well as the tan line under that stupid shirt of Neil’s.

Not even Neil’s voice as he, after a long moment of consideration, said, “You didn’t have to protect me last night.”

“I did no such thing,” Andrew said.

Neil shrugged. His cheeks squished between his fists, he looked a boy more than a man. Andrew had never gotten to ask for his age, for anything really.

“Felt like it to me,” Neil said.

Andrew sighed.

“Is this your weird way of thanking me for not letting Riko murder you in the middle of the dinner?”

“Maybe.”

“Then don’t.”

Neil frowned, straightening. He stretched his arms above his head, the soft fabric of his loose sleeves tickling Andrew’s cheek. Neil didn’t seem to notice, not the sleeves, not Andrew clenching his fists by his side. Instead, he gave Andrew a puzzled look. 

Andrew hated him then.

Behind them, the bathroom door slammed open and Andrew jumped to his feet, ready to put the much-needed distance between him and Neil. He did not look back as he and Kevin headed to the dining room.

-

Riko didn’t show his face for breakfast. Not for lunch either. Andrew wasn’t stupid enough to believe they had gotten off that easy.

-

Andrew knew better than to expect a plan to go without a mishap; he had taken most of them into the equation. 

He had considered Nicky’s mouth getting ahead of him as one of the possibilities as well as Aaron’s lack of interest. He prepared himself for Kevin’s obsession getting the best of him even in face of demise and he knew better than to trust the stranger in their circle. 

Andrew had, or at least he had thought he had, accounted every possible way things could get ugly.

But the universe had never been on Andrew’s side.

Before the dinner, Andrew rushed to take a shower while Kevin was supposed to wait in the kitchen with Neil and Nicky. It was a command easy enough to follow, but Andrew had forgotten that idiocy might be contagious after all.

And Kevin did talk with Neil just that morning. According to Nicky, Kevin ran off like a kid to be followed by Neil.

Andrew rounded the corner of the main building just in time to see Neil stumble under Riko’s hit, Kevin a mere foot from the scene. 

The math behind the plan and all the outcomes mattered very little right then, when Riko seemed about to kill a person, uncaring who it was.

Andrew saw red.

He barely registered tapping Riko’s shoulder. He barely felt his own knuckles colliding with the bone of Riko’s nose, pulling back only to hit again. 

Again. 

Each blow was for one of Kevin’s bruises, for one of his scars. For the broken bones of his wrist. For his nightmares and for his ruined liver, for the late hours on the court and paranoia that came along with it all. 

Kevin, a frozen figure stuck behind Neil, yelped. He shouted something at Andrew, his words indistinct but their meaning clear. Even after everything, he wouldn’t let Andrew kill Riko for all his sins. 

It was Neil’s voice that dragged Andrew out of his daze. “Andrew! That scumbag isn’t worth it!”

He was right. That didn’t mean Andrew jerked his fist back with ease. 

Riko used the chance to shove Andrew off himself. 

Andrew let him, scrambling off Riko’s body on the muddy ground. He took one steadying breath and pushed himself off his knees, back onto feet. His eyes burned to check on Kevin, Neil even, but he forced himself to keep his gaze on Riko. 

He wouldn’t let Riko catch on the concern squeezing his gut, not when it could very well cost Kevin everything.

Chilling smile long gone, Riko didn’t let his features to falter into any sign of discomfort as he struggled to stand up. Blood ran down his face, drying on his lips, and his right eye began to slowly swell. 

Riko didn’t pay it any mind as he stared at Andrew.

“Don’t touch what is mine,” Andrew said. He meant both Kevin and Neil.

Riko must had read that off his face. “Why don’t we share? You keep the new toy for the summer and I will rid you of the old, boring one.”

The blood on Andrew’s tongue tasted bitter. He spitted it out, aiming for Riko’s posh shoes. “I don’t share.”

Riko’s expression hardened. He didn’t take his eyes off Andrew, but he spoke to Kevin. Andrew didn’t understand a word Japanese, but Riko’s sneer painted a pretty good idea of what Riko promised Kevin for the next visit.

“I hope your trial goes well, Andrew,” Riko said and strode off before Andrew could punch him again. 

Only when Andrew could no longer see Riko’s figure in the distance, he turned his attention to Kevin. Neil stepped aside, allowing Andrew to scan Kevin head from the toe. 

Kevin seemed untouched by Riko’s cruel hand, only paralysed at the spot. 

Andrew reached him in two steps, bruised hands flying to Kevin’s shoulders to hold him upright. 

Kevin sagged against him, alive, untouched. Andrew slid his hands down Kevin’s arms and squeezed his biceps. Kevin gathered himself enough to nod.

“I’m okay,” Kevin choked out, “He, - Neil -“

Andrew scowled, his senses slowly coming back to him. 

His jaw ached where Riko had managed to land a particularly harsh blow. Nothing felt broken, at least. 

Andrew looked at Neil, who wiped the corner of his mouth like he was used to much worse. 

He probably was. 

He didn’t let Riko touch Kevin.

Andrew’s words didn’t find him. 

He needed to get them somewhere safe for Kevin to break down. He needed to scrub himself clean, again, before any of the early campers caught a glimpse of the drying blood smearing his skin. He needed to ask Neil questions, so many of them.

He wanted to kiss Neil, too.

But all he did was release Kevin from his iron grip long enough to tap two fingers against Neil’s shoulder, a silent thanks. Then he dragged Kevin to the main building.

-

Andrew didn’t let Kevin touch him to help, but he allowed him to sit on the bathtub as he cleaned his face. 

Kevin had his own worries to mull over before Andrew shook some sense into him. He followed Andrew’s movements with a vacant expression on his face, untouched, untouched, and didn’t say a word.

He decided to face Riko and this was the outcome. Still, it was another small step, it was a progress. Kevin couldn’t get discouraged, not now.

Andrew stopped the running water and wiped his hands dry.

“Andrew-“ Kevin began and cut himself off.

Andrew cross the tiny space of the bathroom and kneeled before Kevin, scanning his face for any injuries once more. Untouched. Alive.

“Don’t start with apologies now,” Andrew told him. “Keep your word, because I am keeping mine as long as I can.”

Kevin crumbled then, head falling forward and his tears catching in Andrew’s hair. Andrew closed his eyes, counted to ten, and let Kevin push Riko out of his system.

-

“I can’t believe you didn’t even patch the poor thing up,” Nicky muttered in the kitchen.

He had been the one to take the cabin key back from Riko after the incident while Andrew was busy controlling the amount of vodka Kevin poured down his throat. Surprisingly, it was only two bigger gulps.

Andrew hadn’t seen Neil the whole afternoon, but the image of Neil’s wild eyes and blood in the corner of his mouth might as well be tattooed onto Andrew’s eyelids.

Aaron clicked his tongue at the topic change and picked up the tray with clean glasses, heading to the dining room and out of the earshot of conversation he didn’t care about.

“Didn’t you?” Andrew asked. He stopped himself from wincing at the lack of the practised casualness in his voice.

Nicky shook his head, brow furrowed. “No. He wouldn’t let me.”

Kevin tapped his finger against the tall glass of water that Andrew pushed towards him the second he walked in the room. He was yet to take a sip, stubborn about listening to Andrew and petty about being dragged outside his room.

“It was his fault anyway,” Kevin said. “He pissed Riko off.”

Nicky’s face crumbled into a sour frown, which he directed at Kevin, but Andrew didn’t hear any accusations in Kevin’s voice. He was stating the facts. It was the exact reason for Andrew’s uneasiness the whole afternoon.

Kevin was no storyteller to share the details that Andrew would had picked on if he was present, but he managed to paint the picture for Andrew to fill in the blanks. Riko’s snarl and Neil’s sharp tongue, Riko’s stretched out arm and Neil, shorter and leaner than Kevin, pushing Kevin behind himself for reasons unknown to Kevin. 

The reasons were clear to Andrew. 

Nicky huffed and slammed the cabinet with bowls closed. “You say that like breathing isn’t enough to piss Riko off,” he said. He wasn’t wrong, but Kevin would rather break his other hand than to admit that. “And it was you who went to find him in the first place.”

“To talk!”

“Like Riko talks.”

Kevin shot him a blank stare, suspiciously familiar to Andrew’s own, and finally raised the glass to his lips. 

Nicky grabbed one of the breadsticks from the tray prepared for the dinner, tore breadstick in half and threw one of the halves at Kevin.

It hit Kevin in the cheek and he choked on the water in surprise, gulping it down with a struggle.

“Enough,” Andrew said and reached for the other half of the breadstick. He bit into it before Nicky could snatch it back.

Nicky rolled his eyes and shoved the food tray into Andrew’s hands, leaving Andrew no choice but to follow Aaron’s lead. 

-

Neil’s empty spot at the table in the corner was painfully obvious.

-

After dinner, when the camp slowly fell asleep along with the residents, Andrew set to find the troublemaker. He locked the main building’s door behind himself, no matter that Riko was long gone. Andrew had checked.

Finding Neil was a task harder than Andrew would have liked, but the night was young, and Andrew remained too riled up to sleep.

As Andrew stood under the pink skies, he took a moment to breathe. Riko was gone, and for a while, Andrew’s biggest problem would once again be the stranger in the camp. He could focus on Aaron’s hatred and Kevin’s drinking. He could try to sleep in his own bed and then sit with Nicky until early morning.

For a while, things could be normal again.

Neil sat in the grass by Andrew’s cabin, grey hood pulled over his hair and his sneakers covered in mud. 

The camp’s messy paths made the mess inevitable. Andrew was meant to fix the main ones that summer, turn the paths stony instead.

Neil sat in the grass by Andrew’s cabin, Andrew’s hiding spot, and strangely enough, he didn’t stick out the way anyone else would. 

He had been at the camp for three weeks and strangely enough, Andrew didn’t recognize his presence as a threat to his family. He was simply another person in the kitchen, one more chair at their dining table, another occupied room in the main building. 

Another neck to feed and look after.

Andrew hesitated in his step just for a second, but Neil had caught on it. 

Neil rose to his feet, his jeans stained green and his bottom lip cut. Andrew saw the apology in his eyes before it slipped past his lips. He would not be sorry for pissing Riko off, not for disappearing for the whole day. It would be an apology for invading Andrew’s space. 

Andrew wanted to laugh. He had spent over an hour walking through the camp only because he didn’t want to admit the existence of this to himself.

Andrew sighed and settled on the stairs before the cabin, his boots as dirty as Neil’s sneakers. Neil’s apology still shone in his eyes, but it was joined by a question. Andrew hated that he was able to read it and he hated his answer as well. 

“Stay,” Andrew said, and he meant that night. He meant the summer.

Neil did. He sunk back to the grass, legs bent as if he was about to stretch before playing. Restless as always.

Andrew smoked two cigarettes before he found the resolve to ask the obvious. “Why did you run away?”

Neil placed his barely burning cigarette to his lips and tilted his head up to the orange sky. He did not hold the smoke in his mouth for a while the way Andrew did. He didn’t smoke for the nicotine. Andrew couldn’t figure out any other reason.

Smoking while the sun set started to sound awfully close to a routine, a thing between the two of them. With a memory like Andrew’s, it was hard not to notice.

“My father,” Neil said. His voice shook despite his noticeable efforts to keep it steady. He crushed the cigarette in his bony fingers. “He isn’t exactly .. nice.”

Andrew stubbed his cigarette against the stair. “Did he do that?” he asked, eyes set on the three perfectly round burn scars.

It didn’t take a genius to know what Andrew was asking. 

“Yes.”

Andrew nodded, no pity to offer. They wouldn’t share stories of their scars and console each other, because they didn’t work like that.

Neil looked back at Andrew. “About Riko-,” he said and shook head. “I didn’t know- If I knew-“

“You wouldn’t try to get yourself and Kevin killed?”

It was more the tone of the question than the words themselves that earned Andrew the dirty look. Andrew raised an eyebrow, a quiet challenge. 

Neil admitted defeat, accepted the truth of the question, but he didn’t break the eye contact. For such a terrified thing, he didn’t seem scared of Andrew. He never had.

“He’s a dick,” Neil said, a matter of fact. “He started talking shit to Kevin, _about_ Kevin, and I just- Kevin wouldn’t say a word to defend himself. He just stood there and waited for whatever verdict Riko might come to, even if it was to murder Kevin at the spot.”

“So you decided to be the hero of the day.”

Neil sighed and stared off in the distance, the last sun rays shining through the gaps of the tree crowns. Some of the orange light fell on his face, highlighted his high cheekbone. His hair seemed brighter. Andrew wondered if that was the early summer sun or his eyes playing tricks on him.

He wondered if Neil’s cheeks were the start or the end of his scars.

“I tried to take Kevin away. It didn’t go well.”

Andrew knew that already, but the words Neil chose differed from Kevin’s. Where Kevin spoke small and afraid, Neil didn’t scare away from describing Riko as he was. He didn’t scare from slapping that description into Riko’s face either.

And yet, only a mention of his father had been enough to send him into the spiral of panic. Andrew knew humans to be complicated, but Neil was so tangled, Andrew couldn’t even find the end of the string.

“You could have left Kevin for death.”

“You could have left me for dead on that road,” Neil said and this time it was a question, a nudge. 

Andrew rose to his feet, dusting his jeans as he shot Neil last glance. 

Neil returned it effortlessly, beautiful under the summer sky with his scars and burnt nose. Beautiful in the worst clothes Andrew had ever seen, washed out and stretched loose. He was a stranger, hiding behind the sharp tongue and practised gestures, but that mattered very little to the naked eye.

“I hate you,” he said, even if Neil wouldn’t understand. Because Neil wouldn’t understand.

“Do you really?” Neil asked, a smile playing on his lips.

And Andrew didn’t answer, because he claimed to be a man of no lies.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group wakes to an unpleasant surprise, Neil connects the dots of Andrew's puzzled future and Andrew offers a deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> 10th chapter for 100 kudos, never thought we would get here, thank you so much!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this finally normal lengthed chapter after all the Riko mess (not that it ever ends, but you know.. at least he isn't around anymore)

Over the three years the camp had been written under Nicky’s name, it had been a scene of many strange events. Andrew wished it meant ghosts and supernatural, but that wasn’t the case. Strange things happened to them, but they were ordinary enough to brush off.

The first summer, when the camp was more a junkyard than a resort, Nicky fell off a ladder while painting the main building. 

Good thirteen feet separated Nicky and the ground, but somehow, Nicky had not broken a single bone. It did not stop him from yelling like he had, of course. The only injury he had suffered was a single bruise on his hip. Andrew’s ears had been through more thanks to all the shrieking while he poked each of Nicky’s ribs to check them. 

In the end, they called the whole incident lucky and moved on.

Then upon his first visit, Kevin got lost. 

Or they lost him, really, because Kevin simply strode off for some much-needed peace. Nevertheless, they spent three hours looking for Kevin and when they finally did find him, Andrew had been a step away from having a mental breakdown. Kevin sat by one of the cabins and claimed he had not moved an inch in three hours. Andrew vividly remembered passing the said cabin multiple times. That night ended with an ugly fight about who was lying and who was making things up, but they had never resolved the mystery. Kevin refused to admit to messing with them. Andrew refused to trust him, a stranger, over his memory.

The only conclusion they agreed on was to never speak of the incident again.

Aaron, whatever was out there protecting him, lived his days in the camp blissfully until the day he found three of their pots with their bottoms burned through. Aaron swore he didn’t even use them. For that, no one had the mental capacity and so they threw the pots out without discussing their tragic fate.

There were stories like that, just strange things that happened over time, but Andrew didn’t find them as interesting. 

Over the three years, Andrew got used to strange things in the camp.

-

“Don’t say it like that,” Nicky groaned, pen falling out of his mouth and rolling to the insane number of books covering the table in front of him. “It’s easy, quieres. Quieres tomar algo?”

Beside Nicky, Neil did his probably best to repeat the words. 

A screeching cat recorder and played backwards would sound better, Andrew thought as he leaned against the doorframe. Neil’s pronunciation would make even a deaf man beg him to stop talking, and yet Andrew didn’t find himself itching to leave just yet. But perhaps that was related to Neil’s sunburnt face, not his dishonourable Spanish. 

“Quieres,” Nicky repeated himself, hand drifting to grip his hair. “Just say it softly. Except for the r.”

Neil opened his mouth.

Kevin shot up from the table. He didn’t spare Andrew a single glance, passing by while muttering something about madness. He disappeared behind the corner to the gym before the main building opened for the campers in two hours.

Andrew would join him if he wasn’t curious. And ready for his ears to bleed.

Instead, Andrew flopped across the table from Nicky and Neil, meeting them with a nod. He didn’t have to ask before Nicky started spilling.

“So Neil asked me to teach him some Spanish in our free time, which is nice, ‘cause, you know.” Nicky waved his hand around. “I get to practice a little too, I am no native speaker after all, which is ironic, of course, but-“

“To the point?” Andrew asked, though he couldn’t deny himself the amusement.

“I just don’t think Spanish is a language for him,” Nicky sighed like Neil wasn’t sitting right next to him. “We’ve been at this for twenty minutes. The next time teachers shout about deserving a raise, I will be screaming with them.”

“You are only looking for an excuse to be obnoxious,” Andrew told him.

“Maybe so. But not even the god can blame.”

Andrew bit his laugh down and turned to look at Neil.

Neil only shrugged, his expression giving away zero guilt at his lack of skill or talent for the language. He did a good job at distracting Nicky, Andrew would give him that. He wondered if the method would prove to be useful for others, too.

“Teach me too,” Andrew said. 

“Why?”

“I might need to run to Mexico.”

Nicky sighed.

“Why would you run to Mexico?” Neil asked, but no one answered him.

Nicky gathered the loose sheets of paper and slammed a stack of them on the table in front of Andrew. Basic verbs and nouns covered most of them, accompanied by Nicky’s little doodles and phrases Andrew guessed to be curses. 

He read one out loud and judging by Nicky’s sour face, his pronunciation was no better than Neil’s.

“Let’s just start with numbers,” Nicky sighed.

It was a solid strategy, at least until Neil butchered the number seven. Nicky then told them to just write the numbers down again while he aggressively typed a message to Erik.

A knock door raised their heads from the notes. 

By the wide-open door stood a middle-aged woman, one of the regulars, lips pressed into a troubled tight line. Nicky rose to his feet, wiping his ink-stained hands on his jean shorts.

“Hello! Can I help you? Is something the matter?” he asked in his best customer voice, all cheery and light. He looked like he might hug the woman, but he settled for offering his hand.

The woman nodded. “Sorry to burst in here like this,” she said, clenching Nicky’s outstretched hand. “But the cabins- You should see.”

Nicky shot Andrew and Neil a puzzled look over his shoulder before he followed the woman outside.

Andrew clicked his pen closed and circled his wrists while he stared at Neil for no reason other than to stare. 

Neil fidgeted under the attention and when he realised Andrew wouldn’t back down, he braced himself and stared back.

“What.”

“Where did the sudden passion from learning come from?” Andrew asked.

Neil’s shoulders rose and he lowered them with visible effort, exhaling a long sigh. He folded his arms on the table and rested his chin on them, looking up at Andrew through his impossibly long, pale eyelashes. 

Andrew ached to brush his thumb over Neil’s eyebrow and maybe shut his eyes closed to escape the cold fire of them. Andrew ached to press his lips against Neil’s eyelashes and feel them flutter, to trace all of Neil’s scars and the nasty cut of Neil’s lower lip. 

But even if Andrew was a man capable of a gentle touch, his hands would still be too rough for Neil’s delicate skin. Looking at Neil was more than enough – sometimes, it felt like something Andrew’s eyes did not deserve to witness after all they had seen.

“I have time to pass,” Neil said. “Thought I could find more things to enjoy, get a life.”

Andrew threw the closed notebook at his face. Neil chocked on his laughter. The delightful sound was short-lived, however, as curses spilled into the kitchen through the open window. 

Nicky cursed often, but it was less than common for him to openly express anger.

Andrew was on his feet before his mind caught up with his body, rushing outside to follow the echo of Nicky’s cries. He spotted Nicky by the first line of cabins, visibly outraged but untouched. 

Unharmed. Alive. 

The lady who had dragged him outside was nowhere in sight, but Andrew didn’t waste time thinking about her as he stopped in front of Nicky. 

Nicky didn’t as much as blink at Andrew’s arrival. He stood still, shoulders shaking when Andrew laid a heavy hand on them. He was no more solid than a leaf in the wind underneath Andrew’s touch, withered and weak. He didn’t even attempt clinging to Andrew.

“Andrew, he-“ Nicky managed to say, sobs choking him.

Andrew followed Nicky’s sorrowful gaze, landing on the side of the very first cabin in the row and the breath caught in his throat. The cabin had been redesigned over the night, its plain dark wood sprayed over with bright red. The message read a simple ‘ _40’_.

If Nicky cried over the damage or the message’s meaning, Andrew didn’t know. But if he had done the math, Nicky was mourning the unchangeable rather than an ugly paint job.

“It was him, wasn’t it?” Nicky asked in an impossibly small voice. 

Andrew’s attention snapped back to Nicky, to the man who put everything into a stupid, rundown camp to make a home out of it. Who lived to create a safe place; for himself, for his cousins. For anyone who needed it.

The red paint only reminded him that while they could call the camp home, there was no ensuring safety to those born unlucky.

“It was,” Andrew said.

Nicky rubbed his tear-stained cheeks with the back of his hand and blew out a long exhale. “Of course,” he whispered. “Of course.”

“We will fix it,” Andrew told him. “I will.”

“Andrew, you can’t-“ Nicky said, stopped himself by hiccupping. “You can’t do this alone.”

People always had always told Andrew about heartbreak when he was a kid, what caused it and what it cost, but very few talked about heartbreak in all of its forms. They failed to mention the type of heartbreak Andrew watched on Nicky’s face when Aaron stood a step away from overdosing. They failed to mention the heartbreak Kevin hid behind the bottle after an early loss. 

They failed to tell Andrew that it would hurt like this.

“Okay,” Andrew said and released Nicky from his grip. 

Chest tight, Andrew looked from one cabin to another. All of those he could see suffered similar damage. The only change was the occasional initials instead of numbers. The letters ‘A’ and ‘N’ coming from Riko were hard to mistake for anything else but a threat. 

A promise.

Behind Andrew, someone came to a sudden stop on the damp grass. 

“Was it him?” Kevin asked. He didn’t really need the answer, not as much as a reassurance. Andrew wasn’t certain he could give it to Kevin. 

“Who fucking else?” Nicky sniffed.

Kevin walked up to the first cabin and traced the number 40 with a long, tan finger. Thankfully, his skin was still clean when he pulled back. “What does it mean?”

“It means we pissed him off,” Andrew said.

“Forty,” Kevin pondered. “Forty..”

He turned back to face Andrew and Andrew saw the exact moment realisation sank deep in Kevin’s gut. 

“Forty days till the trial?” he asked, for once hopeful to be disagreed with.

Andrew nodded.

“Then-“

It wasn’t hard to put together, not when Kevin had grown up with someone as twisted as Riko.

Even with Kevin’s best lawyer, Andrew’s chances were already low. Andrew would not be declared not guilty in August if Riko had any say in the matter. And once Andrew was locked up to rot away in another orange uniform, there would be nothing left between Riko and Kevin. 

Kevin crumbled like a house of cards in the wind, his knees reaching the ground before Andrew could reach to catch him. As it was, Kevin knelt in the grass in an overly dramatic and yet, somehow, excusable display of terror that only Riko could stir in him.

Andrew wasn’t the only one to register the gesture for what it was.

“It doesn’t mention Kevin,” Neil spoke up somewhere behind them, announcing his presence. Andrew did not hear him come. “Only me and Andrew.”

The naivety with which he had spoken was as beautiful as the ice of his eyes. Like he really believed that not everything Riko did was about Kevin in the end. Like he accepted he made it to Riko’s hit list because of two strangers without a second thought. 

Like he made peace with this summer likely being his last.

It took all of Andrew’s willpower not to look at him, not to desperately search for whatever Neil’s face might give away. 

Instead, he gathered Kevin and Nicky, letting both of them cling to him as he led them back to the main room. 

Neil stayed behind, staring at the bright red paint.

-

Breakfast was a rather sad party. 

Nicky sat by the food trays, cup of hot chocolate in his hands, and assured everyone who had asked about the vandalism that it would be dealt with. Some of the regulars went as far to pat his shoulder and offer tips on cleaning the mess. 

Nicky nodded at them, his smile weak. 

Aaron, who had been sleeping off another bad episode, saw the cabins last. He fumed when he strode to the dining room, whispered something to Nicky and stormed off again. 

Nicky didn’t bother trying to smile afterwards and he didn’t finish the hot chocolate Andrew had made him either.

-

At the main gate, Andrew stopped and waited for the footsteps thudding behind him, loud for his sake than anything else. 

Neil reached Andrew’s side in a few long strides, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder. He inhaled to spit out whatever nonsense he’d been putting together ever since he pointed out his name on one of the cabins, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He simply stared at Andrew.

“Andrew,” Neil uttered, his eyes a wild fire on Andrew’s face.

Frankly, Andrew didn’t find himself in the mood for anything bound to leave Neil’s stupid, unfiltered mouth, and so he had no problem with Neil’s sudden lack of speech.

Andrew carried on, kicking the gate open.

It had proven useless, in both its height and its lock. Useless from keeping unwanted out of the camp, useless in keeping Riko from Kevin. Useless in protecting what was important to Andrew.

The gate swung open and came right back with the impact, prompting Andrew to kick it again.

He wished it was Neil underneath his boot instead of the rusty metal. 

And even in his rage, Andrew recognized that thought as a lie coming from the man who claimed to only speak the truth. 

An unfiltered mouth shouldn’t mean a man’s death. Angering Riko wasn’t clever, but Andrew couldn’t blame Neil for Riko’s issues. 

Andrew wished he could. He wished it was easy like that, to pick a person and put all the fault in the world on them. 

Aaron managed just fine.

“Nathaniel,” Andrew said, just to try it, just to get under Neil’s skin as much as Neil got under his.

Neil startled at the name. He flinched as if he’d been hit, hand flying to his burnt cheek. He finally gave a proper reaction; a reaction to the name he had been called by his whole life. 

Andrew didn’t have to be a genius to guess it had not been spoken softly often, if ever.

As Neil stood frozen, Andrew continued to the parking lot.

While Kevin’s car remained seemingly untouched much like Kevin himself, Andrew’s truck screamed with its makeover. The paint was black this time, Riko’s colour if it was to ever belong to anyone, a sharp contrast against the truck’s silver. 

Andrew circled the car from the left, tracing the bold numbers and letters with his fingertip, and laughter bubbled in his chest. The truck’s windows were saved, but Andrew suspected that was to force Andrew to drive the car as it was.

The driver’s door was the punch forcing the hysteric laughter out of Andrew’s chest. Whoever Riko had sent took time with this part of the truck, handwriting careful to be legible. 

_‘Murderer’._

He barely registered Neil catching up once more.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from the word, always whispered behind his back but never aimed at him directly. It was Andrew’s barest essence in one word, out for everyone to see and agree. 

If some of the campers didn’t know the story by then, they would search for it now. 

And it would ruin the camp, because who wanted to spend a night in a cabin with a murderer in the area. And Nicky wouldn’t say a word, wouldn’t send Andrew away, because he would rather go bankrupt than to be like his parents. And Kevin wouldn’t say a word, but he would find even better lawyer, pay him even more to sway the jury to say those two words.

And Aaron wouldn’t say a word, but he would celebrate the world turning against Andrew even further.

Murderer, people would call him, and they wouldn’t be wrong, not exactly.

Neil lay a gentle hand on the truck’s nose, as if he was consoling it.

“Andrew,” Neil said again. He spoke so quietly Andrew mistook his words for the wind, the air refusing to flow into Andrew’s lungs. “I will pay for this.”

A new paint layer would be more expensive than the whole stupid, ugly truck. Andrew might as well finally crash it, only he and a long, empty road. No floods, no accidents.

“Do you think this is about money?” Andrew snapped. “I can afford a few cans of paint. What I can’t afford is-“

Neil raised his hand off the truck, tucked both of his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. The air was too humid for it, but then again, Neil’s hoodie worn so thin it couldn’t provide any additional warmth.

“Losing a murder trial?” Neil asked.

Andrew’s hysteria died out, left him feeling hollow and tired. He stared at Neil with all the heat he could gather in his burnout state, but even he knew he had failed to match Neil’s fire. The keys in his pocket, adorned by a stupid exy keychain, weighted more than the planet Earth itself.

The question hanged out in the open between them, but Andrew didn’t bother answering. He had long accepted that denying the accusation wouldn’t assure hearing ‘not guilty’ in August. Telling the truth wouldn’t either.

“Lucky guess,” Neil spoke softly. “Am I right?”

It was an educated guess, but Andrew wouldn’t give Neil the satisfaction of praising his stalking skills.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to,” Andrew said at last.

Neil chewed on his bottom lip as he regarded Andrew, expression unreadable.

Andrew didn’t stick around for his verdict, heading back to the camp to find Kevin and his shining car keys.

-

The check-up of Kevin’s SUV for any damage, especially on the brakes, took Andrew longer than he would have liked. 

While Andrew inspected the car, Kevin paced around the parking lot, unable to look at the truck for longer than a passing second. He recoiled each time his gaze caught on the driver’s door and the word murderer, face pale and lips bitten raw. 

Kevin knew only the very basic outline of the night three years ago. 

Back when he had finally asked, he was still fragile out of Riko’s grip, wrist in plaster, and a somewhat of a stranger to Andrew. He wouldn’t had stomached the details Andrew could never wipe from his memory. After hearing the main points, Kevin didn’t dare to ask again. 

Not when he came to the camp for the first time, not when the letter was delivered to the dorms and not when he found one of the best lawyers in the country.

Andrew could tell Kevin wanted to ask now. 

The black dot on the calendar was soon to be on everyone’s eyes. The truck neared its expiration date and the camp suffered yet again. 

Because all of these things were reminders of Andrew’s running out freedom, Andrew would tell Kevin exactly how he had killed his birth mother if Kevin had asked.

He did not.

-

Kevin didn’t let Andrew drive his fancy car often. 

However, Kevin couldn’t bear to sit behind the wheel himself. Andrew had told him that he could stay in the camp, but apparently, he couldn’t bear that either. He slipped in the car once Andrew deemed it safe and put his seatbelt on by pure muscle memory.

Andrew didn’t step on the gas the way his body screamed at him to, if only because Kevin looked sick without the aggression of Andrew’s driving. 

Kevin had lost his words in the morning and he was yet to find them four hours later. Curled into himself on the passenger seat, his head rested against the darkened window of the car as he blankly stared ahead at the blur of trees and fields. Although the day was far from cold, he had at one point turned on the heating of his seat.

The car hummed a pleasant melody, its engine calm unlike the truck’s one. It sat steady even in the sharpest turns and offered help with about everything Andrew could think of. He wouldn’t buy it for himself, but he appreciated it.

Had Andrew obtained money to burn, he would burn them on something slick and wicked. He would pick a beast on four wheels that the cops wouldn’t even dream of catching on a highway. A car so expensive that even Andrew wouldn’t wish to wreck it.

But Andrew had very little to his bastard name, and so he had to settle for driving Kevin’s SUV a few times a year. 

Thinking about cars helped to ignore the tense silence, Neil in the backseat. He sat behind Kevin, duffle bag clutched tight on his lap and his face annoyingly unreadable every time Andrew caught a reflection of it in the rear mirror. 

It was a hell ride even if Andrew stuck to the laws and imagined something stronger under his hands.

-

The town wasn’t underwater that time around, which Kevin’s expensive sneakers surely appreciated as they stopped at the parking lot in front of the hardware store.

The store buzzed with people. While Kevin stuck to Andrew the way he was used to, Neil tailed them loosely. Andrew didn’t care if he was to get lost in the crowd of middle-aged dads building treehouses. 

Kevin eyed the paint cans like it was science textbook and he was about to fail his test. 

“Take those,” Andrew told him, pointing at the boring brown. 

Kevin nodded, not bothering to question Andrew’s decision. Even he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the top shelf, a sight Andrew was rarely blessed with. That day, it didn’t have the same effect.

They picked more paint cans than necessary, to stock in the camp for more possible disasters.

Neil caught up with them near the cash registers, joined them in the line without a word. Kevin muttered something Andrew didn’t catch but wasn’t meant for his ears anyway, if Neil’s face was anything to go by.

The cashier scanned their paint, but before Andrew could pull out his credit card and hope for the best, Neil pushed past him. He handed the young woman bills bigger than Andrew dared to imagine him carrying around, rolling around in that terrible duffle bag of his. 

The woman probably shared the sentiment, but she accepted the cash and returned a fair amount of it. She eyed Neil as they gathered the cans, and if it was because of the money or the scars, Andrew couldn’t tell.

He himself had a fair share of questions to ask.

While in town, they stopped by the supermarket to restock the camp’s supplies, food and alcohol. Andrew left that in Kevin’s hands as he wandered off to buy a little gift that Neil would hate.

On their way back, Andrew turned the radio on and didn’t let anyone change the station.

-

Kevin and Nicky drank while they slapped layer after layer of paint on the cabins. Not enough to be drunk by the end of the day, but a gulp there and there, to wash down the bitterness of Riko’s furry.

The campers accommodated in the damaged cabins had been moved while they were in the town so they wouldn’t inhale the paint. Nicky offered them a small compensation, but to Andrew’s surprise, none of them accepted it. They hadn’t deemed it necessary, Nicky told them upon their return in a relief-soaked voice.

Aaron joined the new art club after he had finished the dinner preparations. With noticeable disgust, he picked the paintbrush to cover the giant letter N, and Andrew would have laughed if he wasn’t too busy overpainting his own name staining Nicky’s dream.

“What does the forty mean?” Aaron asked hours later, and Andrew hated him.

Aaron, out of everyone, should had known. He was supposed to be the one counting the days, crossing day after day off until he was freed of Andrew. He was supposed to paint his own numbers at Andrew’s door.

Andrew didn’t know why he humiliated himself by believing that Aaron would know how little time Andrew had left. Why he humiliated himself by thinking that Aaron paid any attention to him at all.

“Might as well be my sentence,” Andrew bit out, half a lie because he couldn’t bring himself to speak the truth.

Aaron stared at the number and then raised his dripping brush to trace it. 

Where Andrew expected to see satisfaction on Aaron’s face, he found none.

-

They settled in the entertainment room that night. 

The hot chocolate Nicky had made them tasted sour on Andrew’s tongue no matter how many sugar cubes he had dropped in the drink. It burned his throat, however, and that was a distraction enough.

Nicky was yet to call Erik, to tell him of the weekend’s events in detail. For once, Nicky didn’t look a bit eager to hear Erik’s deep voice. 

In the end, Andrew sent him to rest early – relatively early, it was. Nicky didn’t protest, the heartbreak wearing him down and adding at least five years to his face.

“None of this is on you,” Nicky piped up from the door. “Or Neil. This is all on Riko.”

“I know,” Andrew told him. 

He did know.

-

They had three cabins left to overpaint, the nastiest ones that demanded more layers. One of them was Neil’s and the other two Andrew’s, covered in the promise of what was to come for him.

Well after three in the morning, it had become clear Andrew wouldn’t dream that night. He threw on an old hoodie and sneaked out of the main building. With no lights from the first floor disturbing the darkness outside, he headed to the cabins, bottle of vodka heavy in his pocket.

Funny how he wasn’t the only one craving some creativity in the middle of the night.

An abandoned flashlight in the grass illuminated one of the cabins. In front of it, Neil’s shadow stretched out over the wood as he sloppily slapped paint over his name. One could call that something akin a performance. 

Andrew dug the bottle out of his pocket and laid it next to the old flashlight. He no longer felt like getting drunk on vodka, not when he watched Neil take out his frustrations on the poor wood.

He considered turning around and pretending to had never caught Neil, retreating before he did something stupid. But that would be admitting defeat, and while Andrew tended to ignore things, he wasn’t one to run away from them.

It seemed, under the moon and starry sky, in front of harsh yellow light, that Neil didn’t feel like running away either. God knew Neil had his chances to do so, countless backdoors Andrew had left open for him if he couldn’t stand his ground just yet. 

And maybe Andrew was right in that part. 

Maybe Neil wasn’t able to stand on his own two feet yet. But a runway staying behind had to mean something. 

It did mean something, and so Andrew spoke the name he knew.

“Neil.”

Neil’s moves jerked to a stop. He turned, granting Andrew the privilege of seeing everything mixing and fighting in his expression. Anger and confusion and sorrow, the worst of him. All of it settled into a relief at the name Andrew chose to use.

It meant something, Andrew was sure. 

Andrew found nothing else to say. He strolled to the cabin and snatched the brush out of Neil’s lack grip. Ignoring their proximity, he dipped the brush in the paint and traced one of the smaller letters until it had disappeared under the new layer of plain brown. 

It had given Andrew an idea, if Neil was to stay.

Neil watched him, his ragged breathing hitting Andrew’s cheek in unsteady intervals. It only calmed down when Andrew stepped back and allowed Neil to see his work.

“We are even,” Andrew said in case Neil couldn’t read his brush strokes. “Your stay from now on is up to you.”

A terrible sound tore Neil’s throat open, a laugher colder than his eyes. 

“How could I stay? How could I stay here and pretend to have some idyllic holiday when he’s out there, looking for me? When Riko had probably already told him where to find me?”

Andrew stared at him, at the hysteria clouding his eyes and tugging on his mouth. All Andrew saw was a boy in pieces, secrets digging into his flesh and drawing out flood. 

Whatever Neil was running from, a man who was his father on a piece of paper and fire pressed against his skin, couldn’t control him forever.

“Stay,” Andrew said. “There is a way out and Kevin will offer it to you very soon. Stay until then and stay if it is the only way to survive until the fall.” 

“Don’t you have enough on your hands?” Neil asked, eyes wild as he tried to comprehend what Andrew was offering. “What can I offer to deserve to stay?”

“Life is a right, not a privilege,” Andrew told him. He raised the brush in his hand and pressed it flat against Neil’s chest. “I can handle another stray and I can handle Riko. Whatever you add to the mix, I will deal with.”

“What do you ask for in return?” Neil asked, his voice shaking as bad as the tight set of his jaw.

Andrew’s attention drifted then, to Neil’s three outfits and how he had just ruined one of them. To Neil’s locked door and single duffle bag filled with god knew what. To Neil’s tender attempts at communication with Nicky and late-night fights with Kevin. To sharing cigarettes and keychains and twenty-dollar bills.

To the haunting words, ‘maybe I simply want to’.

The deal was one of the broken men, and there was very little that broken men could offer one to another. 

“Give me something I can believe,” Andrew said.

Neil reached to take the brush handle out of Andrew’s hand, so very careful not to let his fingers touch Andrew’s. With the slowly drying paint, he wrote another letter on the cabin, an A.

“Abram,” Neil told Andrew, his whole face open for the first time Andrew could recall. “It’s my middle name. It’s the most real part of me I can give you.”

Looking at Neil was more than enough, Andrew once again tried to convince himself. He had spent almost two years looking at Kevin, after all, and though sometimes frustrating, it was enough as well. 

Talking to Neil and sharing cigarettes with him, that was more than enough. Knowing a small part of Neil, real and given, was more than enough.

And yet, Andrew’s hand rose to Neil’s cheek, stopping barely breath from the freckled, burnt skin. 

Neil, for all the confusion written over his face, leaned into the touch. The three scars were soft, too soft, under Andrew’s prodding fingers. They felt long healed and yet so raw, so new. Andrew would never get the feel of them out of his head, a mistake he could blame no one but himself for.

“Tell me no,” Andrew spoke in the tiny space between the two of them, sure he would leave fingerprints pressed into Neil’s skin forever if Neil didn’t tell him to back off.

“Why?” 

“Because I am already asking too much,” Andrew said.

“At least you are asking.”

Andrew jerked back, his throat burning and hand numb where it had come into contact with Neil’s cheek. 

Neil startled at the sudden movement, the paintbrush clacking against the wooden stairs as it bounced off and fell into the grass. 

“This is a mental breakdown,” Andrew said, more to himself than to Neil. “I am not doing this with you right now.”

He only barely remembered to pick up the bottle of vodka as he rushed back to the main building. 

-

It was only behind his door, gulping the alcohol down like was training to challenge Kevin, that Andrew realised Neil might not even know what ‘this’ meant.

For all Andrew knew, Neil might think Andrew only wanted to touch his scars.

In his tipsy daze, Andrew decided that was for the best.

All Andrew knew how to do was to sink to his knees on a dirty bathroom floor, and Neil-

Neil, for all his secrets and unfiltered mouth, for all his rare honesty and annoying drive, deserved better than that. 

-

Still, Andrew kept Abram along with his deepest secrets and long-forgotten desires, locked up in a box with one cigarette and a twenty-dollar bill. 

Safe in Andrew’s mind for the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favourite sentence?  
> 'But Andrew had very little to his bastard name, and so he had to settle for driving Kevin’s SUV a few times a year.'
> 
> The last Andreil scene is one of my favourites and one of the reasons I even started writing this whole au, if you were wondering. There's just something beautifully heartbreaking about the idea of them like that, to me at least.
> 
> Also, spoiler alert, Neil continues wearing the By Andrew paint-stained shirt
> 
> Come talk to me, I got no WiFi and nothing to do


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haunted by his dreams, Andrew plans on how to keep Neil safe while Neil opens up about his own nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So sorry for the late update, but for some reason this chapter was incredibly hard for me to write. The feelings, I guess. (If you notice that in my writing, I am sorry for that too)
> 
> Also this was the last thing I had kind of written ahead, so it's a wild ride from now on  
> Hope you enjoy!

Andrew dreamt of water filling his lungs, heavy raindrops on his face and blood dripping from his hands.

The old road was flooded, all Andrew had once loved drowning in the dark waves. The truck swayed in the distance, its lights the only thing guiding Andrew through the night. It wasn’t supposed to be there, however. It didn’t fit in the scene pulled from the deepest pits of Andrew’s memory, and that was how Andrew knew he was dreaming.

Knowing, Andrew decided a long time ago, didn’t help anything.

He waded through the water, his numb fingers brushing the wild surface and leaving a red trail in their wake. Every now and then something whirled his way, Nicky’s phone and Aaron’s med textbook, Kevin’s orange jersey. When Andrew reached out to catch them, to save them from the floor, they dissolved before his eyes.

No matter how hard Andrew pushed through the water, no matter how desperate his movements became, the distance between him and the truck refused to close. The rain didn’t seem to stop. The blood wasn’t his, but it wouldn’t wash off his skin and it wouldn’t stop pouring down his fingers.

Andrew gave up trashing, titled his head up to the sky and screamed from the top of his lungs. Just like that night, no one heard his despair. 

-

By Thursday, Nicky had stopped paying extra attention to the cabins and to Andrew. His care, while to a degree touching in its intensity, turned into a burden rather quickly, and Andrew could do without another pair of eyes following his every movement.

For that, Neil’s icy gaze was enough.

It was with Andrew during the meals and it stayed on his profile each time they smoked together. Three days felt like centuries, and Neil did not say a word during those three days, not about the deal and not about the mistake Andrew had almost made. 

No, Neil simply accompanied Andrew and wasted Andrew’s money, and something behind his gaze seemed terribly overwhelmed each damn time Andrew dared to meet his eyes.

-

Lingering by the main building, Neil greeted Andrew with a nod. Despite the vividly purple circles under his eyes, he looked at peace, the way the sky was calm right before the storm. Just as breath-taking. 

That late morning, they smoked in silence yet again. While normally the indifference would remind Andrew of Aaron too much, after the terror of his dream, it only soothed his wired nerves. What an irony it was, for Andrew to find a company of another person to be comforting.

“You should dye your hair,” Andrew said as he stubbed his cigarette against the rusty trash bin.

Neil, startled back to the reality from whatever mind space the smoke had lulled him into, ran his hand through the ginger mess of curls. Then he caught himself. Chewing on his bottom lip, he yanked his hand back and stuffed his fists into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. 

If he hated the idea or understood Andrew’s reasoning, Andrew couldn’t tell. Lately, Andrew had been wondering if their languages were different after all. If Neil was a book Andrew could read but not understand.

“Okay,” Neil said. “When?”

Andrew couldn’t bear to look at Neil then, at the stranger he had picked up in the middle of nowhere and couldn’t shake off since. He stared at the very first cabin of the camp instead, its side showing no signs of ever being painted over. To a naked eye, it was blank, easy to overlook among the bunch.

Hiding in the plain sight – exactly what Neil needed to do if he was to stay. If he wanted to stay.

“Today,” Andrew said.

-

After lunch, Andrew crouched by the truck with Kevin’s keys in his hand, and for once he found no excitement in exchanging the ugly wreck for the sleek SUV.

Shoving the keys in his pocket, Andrew reached out and dug his nail into the once silver door of the truck. The red paint wouldn’t give up, not without tearing bits of silver off. Andrew chipped a good chunk off anyway, bitterness sinking its thorns into his heart.

He recalled each and every night he had worked for the stupid car.

He had drained himself with overtime and endured about everything for sad little tips. He remembered the times he had to stop himself from gagging as he cleaned up spilt alcohol and vomit and piss off the floors. He remembered having to squeeze past drunk assholes to do so without throwing up as well.

Those late nights at the club were the kind of job they didn’t show in Nicky’s flashy teen TV shows. It was the kind of job that didn’t take Andrew’s criminal record too seriously, that took in every bastard that showed up at the door. 

It was the only kind of job Andrew could see himself having at the age of eighteen.

Andrew bore it all for a truck that screamed on a highway and had a mind of its own. For a car that refused to lock at times and didn’t care about the weather outside and wobbled in the sharp turns. For a car with seats ripped in placed and burnt through in others. For a car that had smelled like a wet dog for months.

All that humiliation and turning a blind eye for the first and only thing that Andrew could call his own. No one, not families with wide smiles and wider knives to plunge into one’s back, not Andrew’s own blood, could take that truck away from him.

No one could take the stupid truck away, but they could ruin it. They could drive him to loathe the one thing that belonged to him.

‘ _Insurance’_ , Kevin had mumbled in passing. The insurance company didn’t give Andrew anything three years ago and it wouldn’t give him anything now. The world liked to give only to those who already had enough.

Neil cleared his throat somewhere behind Andrew, as quiet as mice on his feet. Quiet the way all the abused kids learnt to exist eventually.

Andrew rose to his feet and kicked the wheel of the truck as he fished out Kevin’s keys. He once more glanced at the truck, at the bright red reflection of Andrew’s conscience on its side. The other day, it had laughed at him. 

That afternoon, it wept along with his torn apart self.

-

They had miles and miles behind them already when Neil’s tongue caught up with him.

“How much is Nicky paying you?” he asked Andrew. “Considering you’re family and you do nothing most of the time?”

Andrew scoffed, straining his eyes on the empty road to keep them from drifting to Neil’s now all peeled off and pink face.

Neil wasn’t wrong.

Out of everyone in the camp, Andrew’s schedule was the loosest. Nicky had matters legal and financial to worry about, every little thing that the camp might need to run smoothly. Aaron’s duties consisted of preparing two meals per day and keeping their food stock. Kevin dealt with the campers and their wishes, plus taught his lessons on top of it.

Andrew usually just wandered around until he found something to put back together.

“What gives you the impression that I don’t earn my pay?” Andrew asked back.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Neil shrugging, sneakers kicked off and socked feet planted on the seat. Relaxed in Andrew’s presence.

“The town is two hours away,” Neil mused, smile leaking into his voice, “and we are going to buy a single box of hair dye in the middle of the afternoon.”

Andrew loosened his grip on the wheel and tightened it again, flexing his itchy fingers against the cool leather. It didn’t help to settle him. Turning the air cooling off, he rolled their windows down instead. 

The wind ruffled their hair as they continued down the road surrounded by trees and fields, everything around them green and yellow and white.

“Then how much is he paying you?” Andrew asked. “Considering you do even less?”

“I haven’t taken any money he had offered,” Neil said.

He was not doing much either.

After a sharp left turn, with a long narrow segment of the road ahead, Andrew dared to sneak a look at him. 

Hair windswept and probably tanged to hell and back, Neil sat with his head titled back against the seat, eyes closed and hand dangling out of the window. The ever-present duffle bag rested by his abandoned sneakers instead of being clutched in his lap, full of god knew what.

Andrew forced his attention back to the road.

“Do you actually need the money Nicky is offering?”

“No,” Neil admitted after a long moment of consideration. “But I’ve never had the chance to work and earn my own money.”

“You have your whole life for that.”

And Neil could have a life like that. He could live simply, if he swallowed down his pride and let Kevin help him. If he took the first step, the hardest and longest one, and signed his name for five years of terrible orange and even worse team.

“That is if I live long enough,” Neil said, tone sober. 

“You will.”

Neil rolled his window back up and leant his head against the glass, but instead of looking out, he stared at Andrew’s profile.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked.

Andrew bit the inside of his cheek, the left one so Neil couldn’t see the moment of hesitation. Out of all the people, Andrew was the last one to be foolish enough to feel certain of something as abstract as the future. 

“I will make sure of it,” Andrew promised Neil as much as himself.

“Andrew, the deal-“

The deal was made and final. Andrew stomped down on the gas pedal, wind whistling in his ear and Neil’s head banging against the window. 

“The deal is that I keep you alive so you can waste your life on stupid exy for all I care,” Andrew said. “I don’t take my word back.”

Beside him, Neil stretched in his seat, eyes burning a hole through Andrew’s skull. It was the weirdest thing, that Andrew didn’t itch at the full force of his attention. That his skin didn’t crawl like it would if it was anyone else watching him.

“You never told me why would you do that,” Neil said. “Or answered any of my questions.”

“It might as well be the only thing we have in common,” Andrew told him. “Don’t ruin it.”

“It might.”

“You know what else would be great to share?”

“What?”

“Silence,” Andrew said.

And he did not step off the gas only because Neil laughed, the sound torn away from his lips by the wind and carried to the sunflower field where Andrew couldn’t chase it.

-

And maybe he did.

-

Bracing himself on the edge of the bathtub, Neil eyed the dye box while Andrew mixed its contents in an old bowl he had stolen from the kitchen. The dark-haired lady on the print grinned up at him and Neil frowned back at her.

Andrew wondered if they should dye Neil’s light eyebrows too.

The dye smelled like eggs and something even worse, forcing Andrew to push the window open ten minutes into their lockdown. The colour of the paste was far from the glorious brown the box had promised; it turned into a green that reminded Andrew of things he would prefer to forget.

“Did you find anything useful there or were you too distracted to read?” Andrew asked as he took the three steps needed to cross the whole bathroom, snatching the box from Neil’s hands.

“You are supposed to leave it on for forty minutes and wash it,” Neil said. “What would I be distracted by?”

By the pretty lady, of course. The thought was a slip-up Andrew refused to acknowledge or admit, to himself or anyone else. 

Instead of gracing Neil with an answer, Andrew dug out the package of included gloves and shoved his fingers into them. They were thin, too thin to be the only thing to separate Andrew’s skin from Neil’s hair. Andrew must had become a masochist along the way.

Neil took the hint and kicked off his sneakers and socks, turning around so he sat with his bare feet in the bathtub. 

Andrew stepped behind him, the bowl in hand, and stopped for a moment to say his wordless goodbye to the bright ginger he had come to associate with Neil. The bright red he had come to seek out on a daily basis, to stare at when Neil’s face was too much.

It was a shame to ruin it, really.

But a ginger boy was easier to remember from the news. A ginger boy was easier to spot in the crowd, easier to connect to the missing kid. Easier to mistake for needing to be found.

Andrew wasn’t foolish enough to let Neil’s hair colour be the end of him. Neither was Neil.

Now, with the dye in his hands and about to brush it through Neil’s hair, Andrew couldn’t help but ask anyway.

“Why are you so happy to dye it?”

Neil’s whole body froze, his shoulder held tense. Andrew expected him to dodge the answer, play Andrew’s game now that he knew the rules.

“I got my hair and eyes after my father,” Neil said nevertheless of how rough the words sounded. “Most of the days, I can’t stand to look at myself and see him.”

Andrew didn’t have any comfort to offer for raw honesty. He stirred the dye and gave Neil the time to collect himself, to arrange his features into a mask of indifference in case Andrew was to see his reflection. 

“If you refuse to take your word back,” Neil said, “Make me another deal.”

“And what would that deal be?”

“A truth for truth,” Neil said. “As simple as that.”

Andrew huffed. “What makes you think you can ask me anything?”

Neil tilted his head back, staring Andrew upside down. His hair for once fell from his forehead, and Andrew could count all the freckles and ridiculously long eyelashes if Neil just closed his eyes for a moment, let Andrew breathe just for a second.

“You ask honesty of me. It is only fair that I ask the same.”

Andrew reached out and pressed two of his fingers into Neil’s hair with the intention to push his head back. He did not.

“That is different,” Andrew said. “Everything about you is a story you refuse to tell.”

Neil, seemingly uncaring about Andrew touching him, barked out a laugh. “I see no difference between you and me. All I know about you are stories from other people.”

Andrew twisted one of the ginger curls around his fingers and tugged at it. Neil didn’t as much as hiss, stubborn about his stupid demand. 

“What is there to know about me?” Andrew asked. 

If Neil had known Andrew, he would had heard all the bitter poison in the question.

“Everything,” Neil shot back, like the answer was so obvious it was impossible to think of anything else.

Andrew yanked his hand back. 

“I hate you,” he told Neil because that was the safer option of action. Smarter, too. 

But still, Andrew knew he had more to gain than to lose by agreeing, only a little over a month of freedom left. 

Neil didn’t bother with correcting Andrew, but the gleam in his eye gave away exactly what he thought of the statement. Andrew had failed to make him believe it.

“A truth for truth,” Andrew said at last.

Neil nodded and straightened again. He didn’t ask any more of Andrew, saving his curiosity for later. For later that Andrew anticipated as much as he feared it.

Andrew pushed the thought to the back of his mind and poured the dye over Neil’s head.

-

Kevin had marched into the gym with a phone in his hand and a scowl on his face. The combination itself warned Andrew for trouble, but only once the coach’s voice filled the room Andrew realised what conversation there was to be had.

“Andrew is here,” Kevin said, his voice flat. “Say hi.”

Andrew didn’t. Kevin expected as much.

“Did you see the videos I have sent?” Kevin asked, phone held to his mouth. If he spoke to the old man like an exy player or a son, Andrew couldn’t tell.

Wymack grunted on the other side, something Andrew guessed to be confirmation of Kevin’s question.

“What do you think?”

“He’s alright.”

“He has the potential.”

“He does. Are you training with him?”

“Yes.”

Andrew sighed and dropped his weight, watching it roll across the room. Why he was the one present and not Neil was beyond him. 

Kevin cursed under his breath, kicked the weight back towards Andrew.

“Is it too late to sign him?” Kevin asked, voice small as if he braced himself for a refusal.

A long pause followed, one that got even Andrew to doubt the coach and his need to save troubled kids. Then the screaming came.

“Of course it fucking is! What did you two expect?! It is June already! God damn,” Wymack groaned. “Doesn’t mean I won’t do it.”

Kevin’s face lighted up in a rare moment of joy, his eyes bright as he lowered himself to the floor and stretched his legs out in front of him. Two years ago, Andrew would have itched to kiss him smiling like that. 

“When?” Kevin asked.

Another set of curses echoed through the speaker, and finally, Wymack said, “As soon as I can.”

-

Andrew sat on the roof of his cabin, a cigarette between his fingers, and his mouth felt too dry after a single drag. 

Brown highlighted the paleness of Neil’s skin, brought the cold blue of Neil’s eyes out. As Neil stared at Andrew the way he tended to those days, Andrew couldn’t decide if that was for the better or worse.

But Andrew didn’t drag Neil out to watch the man like a creep. He reached into his pocket and showed the small device against Neil’s chest.

Neil’s panic when he realised what had rested under Andrew’s fingers was muted, the gift long dreaded. The knowledge didn’t make the pain in Neil’s eyes any easier to look at.

“The only saved numbers are mine, Kevin’s, Nicky’s and Aaron’s,” Andrew said, as if it would soothe the fear the phone embodied for Neil. “Only I have this number unless you decide to give it to them as well.”

Neil nodded but didn’t accept the phone with any pleasure.

“I left the charger at your door,” Andrew said. 

He stubbed his cigarette against the wood and pushed himself to sit at the edge, legs dangling in the air.

“Andrew,” Neil called out. “Thank you.”

Andrew waited for a beat too long before he pushed himself off the roof, landing on the grass and he ignored how hard his ribs dug into his organs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh you thought Andrew didn't care for his truck? Well, so did he!  
> If you thought that Andrew should have kissed Neil in the bathroom after Neil said everything, so did I, except - Andrew 
> 
> Let me know what you thought of this rollercoaster, I myself don't know lol
> 
> (PS: I decided to stop trying to make all the chapters the same length, because some need to be longer and some shorter and the emotional ones just drag on if it’s 5k.. hope that’s cool with y’all)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a high school exy team arrives to the camp to train with Kevin, Neil reveals more of his secrets, and Andrew refuses to face his own feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me last chapter: ugh I can't do these long chapters anymore, I'm done, I am not doing that, I-  
> Me this chapter: lmao so here's a 5.5k chapter, enjoy
> 
> And so much more was supposed to happen in this chapter too! Damn

Although the camp slogan highlighted welcoming everyone and anyone, there were a few groups that Andrew would rather keep outside the gate. The Palmetto State University cheerleaders, or whatever they called themselves officially, were a prime example.

Objectively speaking, offering university sports coaches a huge discount if they took their summer training to the camp was a clever move from Nicky’s side. It meant a regular clientele as well as exposure from all their stupid online posts.

The cheerleaders, with their uncontrollable need to toss people up in the air even during their free time, booked ten cabins twice a year. But thankfully, Andrew still had two weeks to worry about the bunch of girls.

The other group Andrew hated, equally obnoxious, were the Blue Sticks.

Calling themselves a terrible pun, they were a terrible high school exy team that visited the camp annually for Kevin’s precious lessons. Their fancy private school paid for eight cabins for a week and an extra for Kevin’s daily shouting, which wasn’t a small sum.

The problem was that the brats managed to make even Andrew question his sanity.

Andrew watched Nicky colouring seven small squares of the calendar in the dining room with a bright blue marker and felt like exchanging his breakfast toast for a bottle of vodka.

The calendar was another of Nicky’s marketing tricks; it was to remind the visitors of how wanted the camp was. Nicky didn’t write names there, only nicknames of the groups or the regulars. Sometimes he used stickers that Andrew ripped off when no one was looking.

Everything important was somewhat safely stored in the computer in the main hall, and they let Kevin struggle with all the excel tables for reservations and payments.

“When?” Andrew asked, not summoning enough strength to form a proper sentence.

Nicky swung around, smile so wide it had to hurt his face. “Past one,” he said. “Their coach asked me to save them some lunch.”

“You didn’t warn me.”

Nicky rolled his eyes, stuck the marker between his teeth. “It’s like a tearing off a band-aid.”

Andrew sighed, slumped in his seat.

Under the table, Neil nudged Andrew’s shin with a tip of his threadbare sneaker. His face had darkened into a healthy tan, now that the sunburn was healed and he had pealed all of the dead skin off. Combined with the brown curls, his eyes burned brighter than before. It was another mistake in Andrew’s calculations.

When Andrew didn’t bother to explain his and Nicky’s conversation, Neil asked, “What?”

“I suppose this might be exciting for you,” Andrew said. “A high school exy team is coming today. Maybe they will let you carry their water bottles.”

Neil bit down on his bottom lip, and from the look in his eye, it was clear he did so to stop himself from spitting some insult Andrew would love to hear.

“Are they good?” Neil asked instead.

“Compared to you, yes,” Andrew said. “But then again, the bar isn’t very high.”

Neil kicked Andrew for real, all of his survival instincts gone out of a sudden, grin stretching his scarred cheeks.

“Is it so low that even you can reach it?”

Andrew kicked Neil back, all of his sanity thrown out of the window, but the pain didn’t wipe the smile off Neil’s face.

-

As the weekend was bound to bring the first big wave of visitors, everyone’s to-do lists filled up with annoying tasks. Aaron’s came out the longest, courtesy of him pissing Nicky off the night before.

Andrew’s own was right behind, but at least it did not include scrubbing the bathrooms clean.

“I’m telling Erik you’ve been flirting with the new guy,” Aaron grumbled as he shoved the crumbled-up paper in his pocket. Kevin had refused to switch the lists with him.

“As if that meant anything,” Nicky waved his off.

Across the table, Neil’s eyes flicked between the two of them, lost. “Erik?”

Aaron huffed and raised his mug, chugging his coffee only to avoid answering. Nicky, on the other hand, didn’t mind the golden opportunity to brag.

“My boyfriend, remember! He will visit in a month. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, god. He’s gotten so hot, Neil, you wouldn’t believe. Wait, I can show you a picture.”

Halfway through his monologue, he had his phone hauled out already and began to sweep through his gallery. He commented most of the photos he had passed while he searched for the most suitable selfie to show Neil.

Neil turned to Andrew, eyes wide, and Andrew couldn’t comprehend why he expected his rescue to come from Andrew. That was supposed to be a one-time thing.

Before Andrew could figure it out, Nicky was shoving his phone into Neil’s face. “Whatcha think? Isn’t he the hottest?”

Neil studied the photo like it was a Spanish project assignment and sneaked another glance at Andrew. At Andrew’s raised eyebrow, he accepted his fate and faced Nicky.

“I guess.”

Aaron hid his rare laughter behind the cup still pressed to his lips. 

“You guess?” Nicky pouted. Those familiar with him knew better than to deny Erik any compliments. “Even straight people can see that he is totally hot.”

Neil shrugged, folded into himself even further than normal. “I don’t swing,” he said at last.

Outed, Neil’s eyes darted to Andrew yet again.

Andrew didn’t know what else to do except to nod in solidarity. His ice tea with five spoons of sugar tasted bitter. He dropped in another cube, well aware it wouldn’t melt. If he noticed Aaron’s stare on him, he didn’t find it important enough to address.

“Well, okay, but look,” Nicky said. “That is one hot piece of man. That’s all I’m saying.”

“One hot piece of man,” Neil repeated with a straight face, but Andrew caught the spark of mischief in his eye.

Nicky seemed torn between laughing and crying, but in the end, he just sighed and dropped the topic.

-

The Blue Sticks arrived five minutes past the noon and Andrew knew that only because he could hear them long before they neared the main building.

Kevin gulped down his soda and rushed to the hall to take his place behind the counter, leaving his half-full plate with Andrew. Not missing the chance, Andrew dumped all the vegetable from his own lunch to join Kevin’s. He then finished his food in three big bites and gathered the dishes.

By the time Andrew made it out of the dining room with Kevin’s lunch, the high schoolers were already pilling in the hall, loud and sweaty. They each carried a duffle bag that Neil would be jealous of, lingering by the door as their tiny coach pushed through the crowd.

Andrew handed Kevin the plate and leaned against the wall behind the counter, staring the brats down while Kevin typed away at the computer.

“Hello!” Shay exclaimed as she finally stopped at the counter, dropping her own bag on the floor with a loud thud. “We are so happy to be back.”

Andrew nodded while Kevin switched to his charming self, repeating everything the woman probably already knew about the accommodation.

The Blue Sticks’ coach was okay, all things considered. She had always been polite, apologizing on behalf of the kids multiple times a day. She and Kevin, all their awkward flirting aside, worked well together.

What she did wrong, however, was bringing the brats’ attention to Andrew.

Derek had the balls to wave at Andrew.

Andrew counted to ten and back in Spanish in his head. He couldn’t get Neil’s terrible pronunciation of seven out of his head, which was an unexpectedly welcomed distraction.

Shay handed the teens their keys and sent them off to unpack and change, which Andrew took as his cue to disappear as well. If he had to hear Kevin stumble on his words once more, he would end up adding years to his sentence.

Still, Andrew wasn’t fast enough to miss the first giggle out of Shay’s mouth.

-

In the midst of the chaos that the breakfast and lunch had been, Andrew had overlooked one simple thing. Neil’s to-do list, written in Nicky’s best handwriting, carried only one task.

To help Andrew out.

“What are we doing?” Neil asked, wiping his hands on the old overall Nicky had lent him.

It was so different from everything that Andrew had grown to associate with Neil that he couldn’t stop staring at it.

The overall was light denim, torn in places and paint-stained in others. The biggest rip of the pants rested right over Neil’s left knee and as he sat down in the grass, the fabric fell back to reveal a good chunk of his leg.

Andrew hated the piece of clothing with passion.

He crushed the remains of his cigarette against the trash bin and flicked the butt in it. If Nicky was trying to get back at Andrew, he failed to see where he had wronged Nicky enough to deserve Neil tailing him for the rest of the week with a purpose.

“I am fixing stuff,” Andrew said. “You do whatever you want as long as you don’t break anything.”

“Nicky told me to help you,” Neil insisted.

The hint of his pale thigh, peeking through another one of the many holes of the overall, distracted Andrew. Neil was bound to get sunburnt again, Andrew thought distantly.

Neil read the silence as Andrew considering his options instead of plainly ignoring him. “Well?”

Andrew sighed. He was meant to start on the paths. Despite his annoyance with both Nick and Neil, he could use another pair of hands for the dirty work.

“Figure out a way to keep people from stepping on the path before it’s finished,” Andrew said at last. “But do the thinking while we dig.”

Andrew, used to back talking from his family, expected at least a dirty look from Neil.

Instead, Neil jumped to his feet and jogged to the main building before Andrew could focus on the already reddening strip of the skin of his knee again.

-

Neil twisted the cotton string around the stick pushed into the ground multiple times, then continued on to the next stick a foot away.

Andrew stood aside as he already accepted the footsteps to appear in the freshly dug out earth the following morning. He didn’t share any of his concerts with Neil. He found no purpose in doing so, and that left him watching Neil in the dirty overall, messy hair sticking to a sweaty forehead.

The loss of Neil’s natural hair colour was the most noticeable under the setting sun, when the brown didn’t catch the light the way the red used to. To a perfect memory, the change was enormous. To someone with a month of freedom left and no commitment to offer, something that trivial shouldn’t have mattered.

Finished, Neil tied the string around one of the sticks, taller than most of them. At the top of it, he added a simple paper sign. He believed people could read, entirely foolish of him.

The process of digging had stretched on for longer than Andrew had planned, mostly because Nicky had changed his mind about the shape of the path three times. The first draft was too curly and the second too narrow, and the third one was weird.

In the end, Andrew decided not to listen to him.

They had stained the grass bright orange with the spray to mark the shape and Nicky had asked them to do something about that, but apparently, Andrew’s look still held the power to scare about anyone.

Anyone but Neil, who had hidden his smirk behind a muddy glove.

It had been a long afternoon and now the sun was setting behind the camp. Some treacherous part of Andrew chanted in his head that it was time to smoke, it was time to smoke with Neil and say about three words each.

It had become a routine, and Andrew knew routines to be the most dangerous joys out there. Routines could always be interrupted, broken.

Even Andrew wasn’t ignorant enough to deny there was something, small and fragile, to be broken between him and Neil. But if it was to be broken, Andrew would be the one to do so.

He slumped onto the ground, planted himself in the grass like Neil tented to, and pulled out two cigarettes from the pack.

Neil noticed the gesture in a matter of seconds, as if he too had been waiting for it.

As much as Andrew was aware of him, he seemed to be aware of Andrew.

It unnerved Andrew to be on the other end of the attention. It sent shivers down Andrew’s spine and set his lungs on fire at the same time, the contrast reminding Andrew of Neil’s icy eyes under his bright hair.

Neil cut the string off and stuffed the rest of the ball into his pocket along with the kitchen scissors. Nicky would make him clean the bathroom next if he forgot to put them back.

Andrew had meant to tell him that, purely because of the enjoyment that came out of Aaron’s misery, but then Neil sat next to him, and the scissors slipped off Andrew’s mind.

Neil grabbed one of the cigarettes without a second thought and let Andrew light both of them. While Andrew smoked, he held the stick between his fingers, Andrew’s money burning away with the cigarette.

“Your trial,” Neil began oh so casually, like he hadn’t been itching to ask ever since he put two and two together. “When is it?”

The sun lost its warmth on Andrew’s skin.

The curiosity about the trial didn’t surprise Andrew. What did catch him off the guard was the direction of Neil’s questioning. Not what Andrew had done and how and why, but when would it all be over.

When Andrew’s sworn protection of Neil would run out.

“Seventh of August,” Andrew said, the first time the date had left his mouth instead of haunting his mind. “It’s why Nicky hired you.”

But Neil had already known that, thanks to the Riko and red paint on the side of Andrew’s ugly truck.

“How did it happen?” Andrew asked before Neil could carry on. “The scars.”

Neil brought his cigarette up, paused right before it could touch his lips. His face was so carefully put together that Andrew almost believed him.

Almost. Andrew had learnt to search for the truth in the ocean of blue, the icy eyes the only thing that Andrew could trust when he spoke to Neil.

Right then, Neil’s eyes screamed of distant terror. And yet, his voice remained even as he spoke.

“Didn’t you guess already?”

Instead of sticking the cigarette in his mouth, Neil pressed the unlit end of the stick against his cheekbone.

“I wasn’t quiet enough,” Neil said. “I was never quiet enough.”

Reaching out before his mind caught up with his movements, Andrew snatched the cigarette out of Neil’s hand and crushed it into the ground.

Not for the first time, Andrew wondered if Neil’s cheek and hands were the end or the beginning of the scars, and his gut twisted at the thought.

Neil’s head jerked to face Andrew and Andrew hated him then. He hated the astonishment and amazement in Neil’s gaze, hated how easily his expression cleared up. He hated how young and vulnerable Neil looked, sprawled in the grass next to Andrew, a dream under the pink evening sky.

“Why?” Neil asked, voice soft, and he could have meant anything.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Andrew said. “I promised to keep you safe until the end of the summer. Don’t make my job harder than it needs to be.”

Neil forced his features to drop any emotion, another practised trick of his, but he didn’t take his eyes off Andrew.

“You were serious,” Neil said, as if he just then realised that Andrew wasn’t going to drop him back onto the road.

Andrew didn’t grace him with a reply. He pressed his cigarette to his lips and he pretended it didn’t taste like ash when his lips craved something else entirely.

Neil might have continued, offered more and demanded his answer, but Nicky jogged to the two of them and burst their bubble.

“Andrew, come tell your brother not to be fucking stupid!”

Andrew stubbed his cigarette against the rock by his feet. “I tell him at least once a day; it never seems to have any effect.”

“Well, come tell him now.”

With that, he headed back to the main building, Andrew and Neil on his heels.

-

“I am not going to shave your head,” Nicky said.

He stood in the kitchen, hip against the counter, and scowled hard enough for Andrew to imagine the complaints about his wrinkles in the future.

Aaron paid him no mind. “Riko is gone,” Aaron said. “There is no need to look like Andrew anymore.”

Andrew settled in the chair by the window and didn’t acknowledge Neil choosing a seat by his side, both of them quiet onlookers of the ridiculous argument.

Nicky had aged at least ten years in its span.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but,” Nicky said, hands wild in the air with his gesturing. “You will always look like Andrew. It’s in the face. Also the genes, all that.”

“What’s wrong with looking like Andrew?” Neil piped up for the first time in half an hour.

If looks could kill, Aaron’s would pierce right through Neil like a bullet.

Andrew considered it a fair question, but unlike Neil, Andrew had the misfortune of knowing Aaron for about three years. The answer was rather simple, if one bothered to look for it.

Aaron deemed himself above acknowledging Neil and turned his attention back to Nicky.

“Exactly,” Aaron bit out. “It doesn’t have to be my hair too.”

“Okay, but consider: what about keeping some hair on your oddly shaped head despite your spite against your brother?”

Neil had the decency to smother his chuckles into his sleeve. As his shoulders shook with the effort not to burst into a fit of laughter, they brushed against Andrew’s. Strangely, Andrew didn’t mind the feather of the touch. He blamed it on being focused on the oddly shaped head Nicky had mentioned.

“Do it,” Andrew said.

If only to see if Nicky was right.

If only to keep anyone from getting too involved with Aaron. Their height and faces did most of the work, but it had never hurt to take an extra step to be sure.

“You heard him,” Aaron pushed on.

Nicky sighed and grabbed the hair shaver. Aaron dropped himself on one of the chairs and Nicky made about ten different sorrowful faces behind his back before he turned the thing on.

“Straight men really are the tragedy of this world,” Nicky said and set to shave Aaron’s head after all.

-

Aaron’s head turned out not to be oddly shaped like Nicky had taunted. That didn’t mean it made his new look work.

As Aaron strode off to shower and Nicky swept the blond hair off the floor, Neil turned to Andrew, the smile still shining in his eyes.

“Well that was a bad idea,” Neil mused. “At least you have a twin to do all the stupid things for you.”

Andrew didn’t tell him that neither he nor Aaron could look in the mirror no matter how they looked. One of the very few things the twins shared was their hate for their face, stolen from a dead mother and a man they had never met.

A face printed on so many legal documents and forms that Andrew couldn’t count them, a face linked with the word murderer. A face that could never be loved by anyone who knew its story.

In the end, Andrew didn’t find an answer for Neil at all.

-

Early the following morning, it wasn’t Neil’s steps echoing behind Andrew.

Those steps were heavier, carefree the way Neil would never be.

Derek came to a halt by Andrew’s left, a noodle of a teen that was almost two heads taller and at least fifty pounds lighter than Andrew. An ordinary kid in any way one looked at him. What really set Derek apart from the rest of the humankind was his lack of any self-preservation instincts.

Andrew blew out a small cloud of smoke and hoped Derek would dissolve in the air with it.

“Almost didn’t see ya there,” Derek said, hand shadowing his eyes as he pretended to look around the camp. “How’s farming out here going?”

A ridiculous idea that maybe, in a different universe, Neil and Derek would get along, crossed Andrew’s mind. They would run their mouths together and then get killed together.

Without bothering to as much as acknowledging the kid, Andrew took another drag. Derek didn’t mind his conversations to be one-sided.

“Hey, who buys your cigarettes? I mean, it must be embarrassing to get asked for ID all the time.”

It had to be, but Aaron was the one being asked every single time he grabbed a plain beer can.

“Come on man, I’m being nice here,” Derek continued on. “Who keeps you company when I’m not around? Doesn’t it get lonely down there?”

Andrew stubbed the cigarette and turned on his heel, not forgetting to stomp on Derek’s toes as he headed back inside. The high-pitched cursing followed him down the hall.

-

Andrew wasn’t the only one to wake in a sour mood.

The wrinkle on Kevin’s forehead, present for the whole span of breakfast, told Andrew that he would not go easy on the kids during their practice, and Andrew found a sick enjoyment in that knowledge.

“Derek announced that he would not be able to train today due to an injury,” Kevin said as he set his empty mug on the table. “Do you happen to know anything about that?”

Looking around the table as if looking for the culprit, Andrew gathered the slices of apple Nicky had forced onto him and dropped them onto Neil’s plate. In return, Neil pushed his chocolate doughnut Andrew’s way.

“Andrew,” Kevin bit out. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

Andrew snatched the doughnut and shoved half of it into his mouth.

Kevin shot him an unimpressed look. “I am short on a striker,” he said. “Because you are childish and now Derek is claiming he cannot even walk.”

“Sounds like a problem that’s not mine,” Andrew mumbled with a mouth full. He chewed as loudly as he could to annoy Kevin further and swallowed. “Aren’t exy players supposed to put exy above everything? You switched hands to play.”

Beside Andrew, Neil perked up at the promise of an exy debate, but Kevin shut it down quick.

“We are talking about a seventeen years old kid passing time, not someone whose entire career was put on a line.”

Neil munched on the apple slice, eyes dancing between Andrew and Kevin as fast as they exchanged their truths. Andrew expected him to join in, but Neil didn’t.

“You are talking about a seventeen years old kid,” Andrew said. “I am talking about a spoiled brat who doesn’t know his place.”

“So what, you are going to cripple every annoying person you meet? How comes Neil is still in one piece?”

There, Kevin had a point. Andrew hadn’t attended enough of Kevin’s and Neil’s late-night practices, but the few ones he had witnessed were enough to conclude Neil had a way to tug on Kevin’s nerves.

Still, the truth didn’t soften the blow one bit.

“Fuck you too, Kevin” Neil piped up, “What did I do?”

Kevin counted under his breath, the only visible sign he and Andrew visited the same therapist. They never spoke of their sessions, but some crutches were universal.

“I have a list somewhere,” Kevin said, a matter of fact.

Neil straightened in his chair, sucked in enough air to spit whatever nasty words formed in that single-minded head of his.

Andrew cut in.

“That’s an idea, Kevin,” he said. “Just let Neil play with the kids. Problem solved and I did so for free.”

Kevin crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his right bicep. The only thing that ruined the sight was the terrible orange jersey he insisted on wearing even in summer, as if claiming to be a fox was any sort of a power move.

Then again, Kevin’s situation considered, it might as well.

“You think I haven’t thought of that?”

Of course he did.

-

Neil didn’t stand out in the group of teens neither in height or build or maturity.

Quite the opposite – with his admiration for Kevin’s skill and hatred for his personality, Neil fit right in. The Blue Sticks had eyed his scars until he hid them under his helmet, and then they didn’t care as long as Kevin shouted at him instead of them.

Shay didn’t ask Kevin why he had dragged a stranger to their practice, only smiled at Neil and wished him luck.

Derek chose to sit next to Andrew because he apparently craved death, and when Andrew lighted a cigarette, he had the nerve to beg Andrew for one as well.

“You are underage,” Andrew reminded him with a dismissal wave of his hand, eyes not leaving Neil’s figure dodging the clumsy teens on the court.

“You smoked when you were underage too,” Derek argued. “I know because that was last year.”

Andrew didn’t bother asking how Derek knew his age, because the information wasn’t hard to find. Not when everyone in the exy world knew of Kevin Day and his guard dog, always together.

“You are not me,” Andrew said. “And your coach is right there.”

“She is too busy trying to impress Kevin.”

Shay and Kevin stood on the opposite side of the court, way too close to be professional, but both of them were junkies enough to be actually focused on the game.

On the court, Neil scored against the Blue Sticks’ better goalie, who didn’t even see him coming before the ball swung by his head and caught in the net. Neil accepted sloppy high-fives from his teammates as if a single goal against a kid meant anything.

Andrew wouldn’t let him score that easily.

As if Neil sensed Andrew’s thoughts, his gaze found Andrew’s across the court, his expression hidden under the helmet and protected by the distance. Andrew didn’t have to see him to guess the smirk pulling at his lips.

Andrew jerked his head to the side, staring Derek down instead.

“Doesn’t mean she will not notice a kid smoking five feet away from her.”

Derek waggled his eyebrows. “Andrew, are you saying you want to sneak out? That’s some rebel shit.”

Stubbing the cigarette against the concrete by his feet, Andrew leaned into Derek’s space.

“I am going to jail, you know?” he asked in a low voice, in case someone was to hear him over the noise of the game. “Even you can’t be stupid enough not to know what that means.”

“Oh man,” Derek exclaimed, hand slapping against his greasy forehead. “And they say being short ain’t a crime. Maybe I will end up being the one buying your cigarettes after all.”

Andrew lifted his foot off the ground, fully intending to press his heavy boot against Derek’s toes again, when Kevin’s voice rang over the court. Feeling about twenty pairs of eyes on him, Andrew slowly turned to Kevin.

For once, the brats remained dead silent.

“Yes?”

“Come to the goal,” Kevin called.

For a long second, they stared at each other. Then Andrew laughed.

“They cannot score on their own goalie,” Andrew pointed out. “What makes you think I wish to waste my time with them?”

Kevin muttered something to Shay before he gestured Neil over. Like a puppy, Neil obeyed, the eyes of the Blue Sticks following him.

“You were totally going to hurt me again, man,” Derek whined. “Not cool, man. Do you want to smoke in jail or not?”

“I was going to murder you, too,” Andrew said, but he didn’t pay attention to the kid anymore. He watched Kevin and Neil argue in hushed voices, Neil’s grip on his racquet tight.

At last, Neil yanked his gloves off and strode across the court towards Andrew and Derek. He stopped by the gate and waited for Andrew to rise from his seat and meet him.

Despite himself and all his pride, Andrew did.

“Come to play,” Neil said, his eagerness barely suppressed. “Just one game.”

“What’s in it for me?” Andrew asked.

Neil sighed and ran his hand over his helmet, but from up close, the smile creeping onto his face was undeniable.

“Does everything have to be an exchange with you?”

“That is how the world works.”

“What do you want then?”

“What are you offering?”

Neil laughed and Andrew could think of only one thing he wanted Neil to offer. The one thing that happened to be the only thing Neil would not – could not – give.

“Whatever you want,” Neil said. “Anything if you come to the court and play against me.”

Andrew almost scolded him for his wording, for not being careful when making promises, but he decided against it for the sake of losing the attention they were currently given.

“Your scars,” Andrew said. “Let me see them all.”

And for some reason, Neil nodded, ready to pay the ridiculous price for Andrew’s game.

-

Neil had not scored on Andrew.

He had made it past the defence just fine and he created himself an opening for a clean shot, but Andrew wouldn’t let him past his goal. As much as it obviously frustrated Neil, it seemed to drive himself as well.

Of course, as even Neil couldn’t score, none of the kids could. Unlike Neil, they didn’t take the fact too personally, playing for fun more than anything. If they couldn’t secure themselves a sports scholarship, their parents would simply pay for their universities. As far as Andrew knew, none of them looked to make a career out of exy either.

Neil’s junkie brain had a hard time processing that information.

Kevin just shrugged him off. He had long accepted that not everyone coming to the camp for his lessons lived with exy in their veins, that some people had hobbies for the sake of having a hobby.

“I talked to the coach the other day,” Kevin said as the three of them sat in the middle of the court. At Neil’s confused look, he added, “Our coach.”

“The Foxes’ coach.”

“Yes.”

“Okay?”

The conversation shouldn’t have come as a surprise, Andrew thought as he studied Neil’s features, wary and expectant and somehow glowing. His hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he smelled kind of bad after three hours of practice, and yet Andrew couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but the strange pull towards him.

“I want you to play for the Foxes,” Kevin said. “Full scholarship for five years, starting in fall.”

Neil’s face twisted, his lips a thin line. “You want to sign me? It’s already June.”

“I do,” Kevin said. “The coach already talked to the dean and everyone on the board. After seeing you play, they decided to make an exception for the late application.”

Neil shook his head, the blue of his eyes as cold as ice. “I can’t.”

“I want you to play with me,” Kevin said, stopped himself and then added, quietly, “And Andrew. I want you to play with us.”

Neil’s eyes darted to Andrew.

There was a way out, Andrew had told him not long ago. The way out laid in the publicity that came with playing for the university team, in the campus security and the student dorms.

The way out could be found with a team of the unwanted and renegades, criminals and addicts and broken. As Andrew rotted away behind the bars, Neil could be safe with the Foxes.

“You can,” Andrew said.

Neil wanted to say yes. He couldn’t hide the want for the future that Kevin promised behind his icy gaze and he couldn’t hide it behind the jerking of his head, couldn’t hide it in the rigid posture of his.

“My father,” Neil said. “He won’t let me.”

“He doesn’t need to,” Kevin told him, because he would know the best. “Do I have your game?”

It was fascinating, to watch Neil smother his fear with fire that Andrew didn’t quite understand but didn’t seem to ever bore of witnessing.

And that was the thing, really, because at the end of the day, it wasn’t Neil’s strangely pretty face or curly hair or the hints of his lean body that Andrew couldn’t get out of his head. It wasn’t the blue eyes or the dangerous smirk, either.

It was the determination to play and the need to waste Andrew’s cigarettes. It was the never-ending questions and quiet respect and stolen glances over the room.

It was the twenty-dollar bill and the terrible exy keychain that kept Andrew up at night, because Andrew recognized the signs. All of them screamed stop in bright red.

“You do,” Neil said.

Andrew had never wanted to kiss someone as much as he ached to kiss the stupid grin off Neil’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, I imagine Derek as a mixture of what Kevin and Neil would have been as teens if they had normal childhood
> 
> Also, this is about the midpoint of the story’s timeline, so from now on it should be all about pining, bonding, angsty staring at the calendar and finally talking about the twin’s past and Andrew’s trial, hope y’all ready! (Tho god knows how many words that will turn out to be)
> 
> Thanks you all for the support, whenever it’s kudos or comments or simply reading this au!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a rough day, the night takes a strange turn and leaves Andrew with the difficult decision of how far he is willing to go to stay true to himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me at Thursday night: crying with only 200 words of this chapter written, not knowing what to do with it  
> Me at Saturday afternoon: crying with 5.2k words written, knowing I wanted to fit at least two more scenes in and had to cut some things out because it would be a monster of a chapter otherwise

The events held at the camp were usually small gatherings that a group of visitors ordered forehead. The welcome party for the Blue Sticks, paid for by their school, was a tiresome event for Andrew.

It wasn’t exactly dull, because Nicky would never let any night of drinking to be dull. Hence the ‘finish the vine’ competition. For once, Kevin would lose in something. As an onlooker, forced to stay sober until midnight, Andrew could appreciate seeing Kevin stain his perfect winning streak.

The brats, despite their ear-shattering choice of music, weren’t too boring to watch either. Even if only after Andrew had given in their begging and sneaked a drop of alcohol into their cocktails.

Neil sat at the bar for most of the night.

Still shaken by Kevin’s offer and his own response, Neil observed the mess that the dining room had become. He hadn’t asked Andrew for anything other than his typical soda and a silent company.

After the longest day Andrew could remember, he wouldn’t say no to Neil shadowing him.

Andrew wouldn’t say no to Neil’s damp hair dripping on the bar when he leaned forward. He wouldn’t say no to the faraway look in Neil’s eyes as he tried to make the sense of the madness in the middle of the room, Nicky’s joy louder than the high-pitched shouts of half coherent phrases.

If Andrew tuned out just enough, it all seemed so normal. Just a bunch of kids stuck in an old camp, relying only on alcohol and each other for any sort of entertainment. A perfect image of life Andrew wished for only after he had realised he couldn’t have it.

Nicky made it so believable, tipsy and caught up in laughter as he gave out points that didn’t matter. Some of the teens turned to bribery, offering Nicky their snacks and new sneakers and god knew what else. The rest argued with him, called him names like they would call their own friends, but they spat the words with no heat, with no harm intended. And Andrew knew that Nicky genuinely liked the kids, looked forward to their visits and their stupid welcome party.

Kevin made it so believable, face flushed from his pure vodka and the outrage at the unfair scoring system. He took himself seriously all the time, not knowing any better and too afraid to ever let loose. However, surrounded by a bunch of teens, Kevin dropped some of the weight off his shoulders, at least five years younger. And even with the fire of his crush long burnt out, Andrew could never suppress the amazement that came with witnessing Kevin simply living.

If Andrew tuned out just enough, it all seemed so normal.

But when he stopped paying enough attention to his thoughts, they slipped into more dangerous waters of imagining more that could be normal. Neil in orange. It would be quite a sight, to see Neil in all his bright glory. To see the ray of happiness that only ever peaked through Neil’s defences when he was on the court, chasing his future instead of running away from his past.

The image of Neil as Fox had become keen on haunting Andrew’s mind. If Andrew didn’t have hundreds of reasons to hate himself already, his type would make the top five.

“Can I get another?” a voice startled Andrew back to reality.

Shay stood by the bar next to Neil, empty glass in her hand and a smile plastered on her face. Andrew mixed her another virgin mojito, because she was a responsible adult like that.

Since eight, Shay had been looking after the kids and Kevin too, although she wouldn’t admit it. Her attraction to Kevin, Andrew understood well enough. Kevin was all lean muscle on long legs, a sculpted face right out of a magazine. The black ink staining his cheek couldn’t ruin that.

But after two years of exy practices and texting and calling, Shay also knew Kevin who happened to be moody and pessimistic, cynical at times and judgemental at best. His conversations topics were limited to exy and history, his smile and good manners reserved for the press.

And yet, Shay looked at him like he was the brightest star, the very reason the universe moved.

Andrew couldn’t understand that.

“Thank you,” Shay said as Andrew handed her the glass. “I will send them to beds soon, don’t worry.”

Andrew nodded and watched her disappear back into the crowd.

He found he didn’t mind working that night. Neil’s thinking face combined with his scars scared the kids off, so they didn’t linger at the bar for too long. It was irony at its finest, but Andrew wouldn’t complain that for once it wasn’t his criminal record doing the job.

Uncaring for Kevin’s previous warnings about insomnia, Andrew opened the second can of an energy drink and gulped half of it down. Neil, the funny soul he was, raised his soda can and clinked it against Andrew’s Red bull.

“Toast?” he asked Andrew, mischievousness returning into his voice after hours of silence.

“Cheese and ham, no green shit,” Andrew said.

Neil laughed, mouth pressed against his shoulder to smother the sound. He had never been quiet enough, he had told Andrew. A lot of things made sense after that statement settled in.

“And they say you have no sense of humour.”

“I don’t.”

Neil shrugged, sipped on his soda. His hair had dried a lot curlier that night, the dye washed out a shade lighter than it had been. Andrew wondered if he had finally managed to scrub the brown stains from behind his ears, caused by Andrew’s clumsiness and Neil’s constant movement.

With his usual lack of self-awareness, Derek waltzed to the bar.

His foot was apparently doing much better now, not a sign of a limp in his step. He slammed his glass on the wood, easily dropping himself on the high bar stool that Neil had to climb onto. Andrew tended to avoid the stools altogether.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Derek said, his tipsy smile crooked. “Can you give me a shot of what Kevin’s having?”

Liquid courage flowing in his veins, Kevin allowed the kids to drag him aside and teach him some silly dance. Kevin was no dancer, but the vodka did help to loosen his limbs enough that Andrew didn’t worry about Kevin’s reputation.

Andrew leaned his elbows on the bar, resting his chin on his clenched fists so he wouldn’t punch the kid. Neil straightened in his seat so subtly that even Andrew barely registered the shift in his posture, but Derek still loomed over him.

“No.”

“Come on, man, no one is looking right now, you can just slide it over.”

“Can but won’t.”

“I see,” Derek said. “Is this the way it’s going to be from now on?”

Feeling the familiar icy gaze on his profile, Andrew raised his head, cracked the knuckles of his right hand.

“It’s the way it’s always been.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are not.”

Derek groaned. Glancing around the room, he seemed to finally notice Neil next to him, scarred and cold-eyed. Exactly the type of person Derek thought made the best friends.

Without a second thought, Derek threw his lanky arm around Neil’s shoulders, his hand hanging dangerously close to the tender skin of Neil’s pale neck.

Neil went rigid; a different kind of still than before his panic attacks but alarming all the same.

“So Andrew doesn’t pour for you either,” Derek exclaimed with joy, oblivious to the tense set of Neil’s jaw. “Are you underage too? He can be pissy about that.”

Andrew reacted faster than Neil.

He reached between Neil and Derek, pinching the inside of Derek’s bicep and pulling at the thin skin. It was the better option, one that wouldn’t land him in jail prematurely. Andrew didn’t let go until Derek dropped his arm with a string of curses, scooting his stool away from the bar and Neil.

“What the fuck,” Derek whined, rubbing the red skin of his arm. “What was that for?”

Neil didn’t relax visibly, shoulders still raised to his ears, but he sent Andrew a look saturated with gratitude. Andrew hadn’t accepted his thanks then and he wouldn’t accept it now.

“You are old enough to understand the principle of consent,” Andrew said. “And how it applies everywhere.”

Derek slumped in his seat.

He didn’t mean bad, Andrew knew. Somewhere deep, deep down, at least. Derek had simply been born into a different world, one that neither Andrew nor Neil could ever fit in. Derek didn’t mean bad, but intentions barely ever mattered.

“You do not touch people out of nowhere, get it?”

“Yeah, fine!” Derek pouted. “Could have just told me not to touch your boy here.”

Andrew counted to ten before he lost the last bit of patience left in him.

Count to ten, then react with a clear head, his therapist had told him. It had prevented a fight or two from breaking out, but sometimes reciting the numbers only pushed Andrew further down the rabbit hole of fury.

Neil’s outrageous pronunciation of the Spanish number seven echoing in Andrew’s head stopped him right at the edge of the cliff and held him there.

“God, I thought you were with Kevin or something,” Derek mumbled. “If I knew I would have locked him and Shay in a cabin like forever ago.”

Andrew sighed, poured Derek half of a shot of vodka. “Just go,” he told the kid.

For all his nonsense, Derek did. He didn’t spare them another glance as he downed the vodka and stumbled back to his friends, nearly knocking the barstool over in the process.

Andrew finished his energy drink, reached for another.

-

And Andrew refused to mull Derek’s words over, because they were just words and people tended to hear what they wanted to hear.

-

Electricity flowing through his veins, Andrew bounced on his feet outside the main building hours past midnight.

The lights inside had slowly died out, the kids long ushered into their cabins. Nicky and Kevin ended up too drunk for any proper cleaning. Aaron gathered the worst of the trash, empty bags of chips and confetti, and stacked the glasses into the dishwasher, but wouldn’t bother with unpaid help. None of them would.

Andrew had left the surface of the bar sticky because he had itched for a smoke.

But as Neil lighted the cigarette hanging from Andrew’s lips, the itch turned into an ache for something else.

He ached for the kind of thrill that neither nicotine nor alcohol could give. He ached for the kind of thrill that sent his heart into overdrive, emptied his mind of all the thoughts and sucked all the air out of his lungs.

That exact thrill came with his foot on the pedal and Neil’s laugher echoing down the road; a dangerous combination that Andrew wished he had not discovered. Now he couldn’t forget it, couldn’t get it out of his system the same way he couldn’t get Neil out of his head.

Keys heavy in his back pocket and eyelids glued open, Andrew decided to bite the bullet for once.

“I’m going for a ride,” he told Neil, an invitation that he didn’t dare to voice.

Neil caught it anyway, knowing when to read between the lines of Andrew’s messages and yet incredibly dense at the same time.

Perhaps the reason Neil and Kevin bit and scratched each other with every interaction was that they were too alike to get along.

Neil tailed Andrew like Andrew had expected him to.

Andrew crossed the camp in darkness, knowing all the muddy paths and rocks and flowerbeds by heart. He only turned the flashlight app on by the main gate. Fishing out his keys, he tried not to let his eyes linger at the keychain dangling from the ring, so obnoxious and ugly that Andrew questioned his sanity for keeping it.

Then again, it was a gift.

If the years of therapy gave Andrew anything, it was self-awareness. No matter how difficult it was to admit his own faults, Andrew had learnt enough about himself to know exactly why he would keep the stupid keychain until the day it fell apart. It had nothing to do with Neil and the weird pull Andrew felt towards him.

The keychain was a gift with no strings, asking for nothing in return. Andrew hated it.

At the back of the parking lot, next to Kevin’s shiny SUV, stood the truck. But instead of greeting Andrew with the cheery red insult, it hid under an old tarpaulin someone had pulled over it.

It explained the lack of curious teenagers, minus Derek. The sight made no sense to Andrew’s tired and yet wide-awake brain.

Andrew stared at the truck with his keys clutched in his hand, the teeth of them digging into his palm. The tarpaulin came from the junkyard that was the area behind the main building. He couldn’t think of a time when Nicky, the only person considerate like that, had wandered more than ten feet away from the main building in days.

Neil stopped beside Andrew, hands stuffed into the big pocket of his hoodie and expression clear of any confusion at the truck’s state.

“Did you?” Andrew asked, barely pushing the words past the lump in his throat. Just to be sure he wasn’t losing his mind.

“Yeah,” Neil said. “Nicky said he didn’t need the tarpaulin, if you’re worried about that.”

Andrew wasn’t.

He hadn’t thought about the old tarpaulin and it if was of any use at the camp.

Andrew thought about the sinking feeling in his gut each time the truck screamed murderer at him, about the way the red letters slipped into his dreams and wouldn’t leave him alone during the day. He thought about how Neil had to notice the smallest flinch in Andrew’s movements, whatever hint Andrew gave away unwillingly.

“Why?” Andrew asked.

He hated himself for pulling the same move Neil had the other day, but he needed to know this one thing if nothing.

Neil took a step, two, forward and turned on his heel to observe Andrew. He didn’t seem to care about the light pointed directly at his face.

“Are you taking your turn?”

“Yes, Neil, now tell me why.”

Neil walked backwards until his legs bumped against the truck and he leaned back against the hood of it, eyes not leaving Andrew. The harsh shadows sharpened his already straight nose, cut his cheekbones.

“The first time you took me to the town,” Neil started, voice soft as it echoed through the night. “You turned the heating on and you stroked the dashboard.”

Neil had laughed then, had surprised himself as much as he had surprised Andrew, and all Andrew had thought to do was to throw a paper bag at him. What the early slip-up of Neil’s had to do with anything, Andrew didn’t know.

“The first thing I learnt about you was that you cared for the car,” Neil said. “I didn’t understand why just like I didn’t understand why you cared for the camp that much.”

Andrew huffed, squeezed the keys in his hand harder.

They would break the skin of his palm any moment and Andrew wouldn’t care in the slightest, grateful for the reminder that he wasn’t dreaming. That Neil and the truck wouldn’t float away.

“You think you understand now?”

“I do.”

“How could you?”

Neil sucked in a shaky breath that promised nothing good to slip past his teeth. He shifted on his feet, half of his face sinking into the darkness of the night.

“Because I have seen you driving the truck and I have seen you taking care of the camp,” Neil said. “Nicky says you are embarrassed by both the car and the camp, but I don’t think you are.”

Andrew released the grip on his keys, stuffed them back into his pocket. The piercing pain between his ribs was enough to keep him grounded.

The truck and the camp were nothing much, but Andrew had never felt embarrassed or ashamed for the little he had. His own car, a place to call home. It was more than he dared to dream of having at the tender age of sixteen, locked in a bathroom and staining the pristine white bathtub red.

“They are part of you and Riko tried to ruin them,” Neil continued. “You couldn’t stand to look at the pieces of yourself tainted like that, exposed like that. Neither could I.”

Andrew didn’t bother to stop the bitter laughter clawing its way out of his throat, out of his rotten heart.

“I hate you,” he told Neil, and it felt like the biggest lie of them all.

“You are more than some label put on you,” Neil said. “You picked me up on an empty road and took me somewhere safe. You told me to stay even if it meant glueing a target on your own back.”

“I made you a deal.”

“You did,” Neil agreed. “And for what, Andrew? For my name? For a sob story of nobody? Don’t you realise how little that is compared to everything you have done for me?”

“Foolish is the one who offers,” Andrew said. “Even more foolish is the one who doesn’t take.”

Done with the conversation, Andrew walked to the truck and grabbed the tarpaulin, tearing it off the car in one swift tug.

Neil stumbled with the movement but stabled his footing quickly, reaching out and pressing his hand against the driver’s door. His fingers covered the red letter M, but Andrew still saw it clear and bright.

“What do you really want, Andrew?” Neil asked, stubborn and irritating. “There has to be something.”

Andrew hadn’t wanted anything ever since he was sixteen, staring at the plain hospital ceiling and listening to the social worker listing his future in bullet points. He hadn’t wanted anything since he was almost seventeen and just bought the first pair of the black armbands, eager to hide himself from the rest of the world forever. He hadn’t wanted anything since he was freshly seventeen and he had slipped up, his blade piercing through a skin that wasn’t his own for the first time. He hadn’t wanted anything since he was barely eighteen and he met his brother for the first time, high out of his mind.

“To kill you the ninety-nine percent of the time,” Andrew said at last.

“And the one?”

Andrew had wanted everything ever since Neil stepped onto the property of the camp, all of Andrew’s daydreams and nightmares living in one ginger boy.

“To kiss your stupid mouth shut.”

Neil stood there frozen, eyes wide with the confession and pupils blown by the harsh light of Andrew’s phone, and for once didn’t seem to find any words.

The shocked silence worked for Andrew alright.

He climbed into the truck and turned the flashlight off, letting Neil stumble to the passenger seat in complete darkness.

-

The sunflower field that could be seen from the camp laid about twenty minutes away, stretching out for what seemed to be miles. It was divided only by a narrow dirt road that most would miss in the dark, but Andrew knew all too well.

He stopped the truck not far away from the main road, left the headlights on. Hands on the wheel, he gazed ahead out of the truck’s dirty window.

The electricity in his veins buzzed out into a calm supply of sugar energy, keeping him awake but not driving him insane. He ached for the release of all the pent-up frustration still, because he hadn’t allowed himself to press the gas pedal to the floor.

Because Neil had stared at him the entire ride, but was yet to speak a word.

To humour the universe once again, Andrew took Neil to the field full of sunflowers. The flowers of loyalty and adoration. He doubted Neil would know their meaning or think twice about the bright yellow plains, but the irony wasn’t lost on Andrew.

Suffocating in the small space, Andrew kicked his door open and jumped out of the car. He suppressed the urge to circle the truck and read each letter and number again, opting to pace down the dirt road as far the headlights allowed him.

Neil stayed behind.

The sunflowers still had about a month of growth ahead of them, most of them barely half the size Andrew remembered them to be at the end of the summer.

Nicky sent Andrew to pick a bunch sometimes, when he noticed the circles under Andrew’s eyes were a little too dark. When Andrew sweetened his tea a little too much.

It was an easy task to complete. It was an even easier escape from the four iron walls that the camp could turn into on bad days. The simple request gave Andrew hours to spend alone, he and his truck and miles of bright yellow flowers. He would sit on the side of the dirt road and exist for the sake of existing.

That night Andrew felt more like living.

By the time he reached the point of the headlights’ limit, he had replayed his and Neil’s conversation at least a million times. Each time, he thought about a different path to take. He thought about different phrasing or different direction of his questions, about shutting Neil up just a moment earlier. He imagined not letting Neil speak at all.

And yet, Andrew ended up choosing the exact same words he had spoken. That was how he knew.

During the two years of Kevin’s company, Andrew had come up with countless alternative options for their interactions, analysed them all and stacked them away for later.

About the rollercoaster that was getting to know Neil and allowing Neil to know him, Andrew wouldn’t change a thing.

That was how Andrew knew that although he was bound to leave everyone behind, he didn’t wish to leave as a liar.

Neil sat on the ground when Andrew returned to the truck, his shadow stretched long in front of him. He had pulled his hood over the mess of brown curls falling into his eyes, sleeves tugged over his hands and the hems of them clenched in his palms.

Noticing Andrew’s arrival, Neil gazed up, eyes soft with the exhaustion lulling him to sleep.

Andrew sank to the ground next to him without a single care about his sleep schedule or the cold ground or the battery of the truck possibly dying. It wouldn’t matter in the long run. He pushed his knee to his chest, wrapped his arms around his leg just to keep his hands somewhere safe, far from Neil.

“I was thinking,” Neil said, his voice as sleepy as his eyes. If he leaned to the side, an inch towards Andrew, then Andrew either imagined it or it wasn’t intentional.

“That’s dangerous for someone like you.”

Neil smiled, small and easy. Andrew forced himself to stare down the dirt road instead, counting the fallen sunflowers.

“Most of the time, yeah,” Neil continued. “I was thinking about what you said.”

In Andrew’s opinion, there wasn’t much to think about. While he was stupid enough to let himself become attracted to Neil, he wasn’t going to force himself onto Neil.

“Must have hurt,” Andrew said instead.

Neil hummed, unlike Kevin not offended by the poke at his intelligence. Andrew would like to see the two of them playing scrabble and not kill each other with their dictionaries, but that was a different fantasy altogether.

“It did,” Neil said. “I just don’t understand.”

“What is there to understand?”

“That you like me.”

Although Andrew wouldn’t admit it out loud, his attraction to Neil was probably the only thing in the universe that made sense. Neil saw through the thick shell that was Andrew’s apathy and empty words, didn’t let himself be discouraged from talking and asking by Andrew’s dismissal.

Neil saw Andrew how Andrew truly was, not how he presented himself to be. It took one to know one, after all.

“You are a pipe dream,” Andrew said. “You were supposed to stay in my head.”

Neil shifted beside Andrew, bent his knees and rested his cheek against them so he could watch Andrew.

“You never said anything,” Neil said, a poorly hidden question.

Andrew didn’t. He didn’t plan on saying anything ever, the way he had never told Kevin, but then Neil had asked and the words slipped out on their own.

“Why would I,” Andrew said. “You don’t swing.”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“Isn’t everything?”

“Andrew, I-“

“You asked and you got your answer, that’s it,” Andrew said. “You don’t owe me anything. Not an explanation, not an apology, not a pity. Nothing.”

“I know that.”

“Then there’s nothing to talk about.”

Neil’s expression twisted with emotion Andrew couldn’t quite categorize, but in a blink of an eye, Neil smoothed it out. Eyelids droopy, he fought sleep as he continued to gaze at Andrew, the sun slowly climbing up the sky in front of them.

Andrew pulled out two cigarettes, and for once, it was Andrew who let the stick burn down to the filter without taking a drag.

-

Neil fell asleep in the truck on their way back, legs folded underneath him on the seat and head bumping against the window. The ride took much longer than twenty minutes.

-

Aaron sat on the bottom of the stairs when Andrew and Neil finally dragged themselves inside the main building, both craving at least a few hours of sleep before Nicky summoned them to finish the rock paths.

He showed no sign of surprise at seeing them return together, but Andrew could tell that the fact bothered him. It was in the corner of his mouth, in the arrogant tilt of his chin. Andrew didn’t know what the issue between Aaron and Neil was exactly, but it clearly ran much deeper than Neil being another stranger in Aaron’s home.

Neil didn’t acknowledge Aaron or the tension in the air. He climbed up the stairs with steps heavy, not offering Aaron a single glance as he passed by.

Andrew and Aaron both waited for the groan and thud of Neil’s door.

“I don’t remember the last time you have voluntarily left Kevin alone for this long,” Aaron said when he was sure Neil’s door was shut.

Given Neil’s curiosity and tendency to stick his nose where it didn’t belong, Andrew didn’t share the certainty that they had been left alone. Neil could as well just opened and closed the door while remaining in the hall.

“You don’t remember a lot of things,” Andrew reminded Aaron. “Why is this one special?”

Aaron stood up, gaining a few inches on Andrew thanks to the stairs.

“I hope he is worth at least half of what’s coming,” Aaron said, voice laced with venom and poorly concealed disbelief. “Because Riko doesn’t forget. The cabins were only for a show and you know that.”

The cabins were a cruel reminder of Riko’s reach, but Andrew wouldn’t let him touch anyone in the camp. Riko would not touch Kevin, Andrew’s family or Neil.

“I will worry about Riko and his god complex,” Andrew said. “You worry about yourself the way you always do.” 

Aaron didn’t bother responding.

Andrew didn’t bother to linger around.

-

That afternoon, Andrew and Neil finished the rock path under a scorching sun. Nicky brought them a bottle of sunscreen after lunch, waited until they both slapped a generous amount of it on their faces and arms before he took his leave.

Neil didn’t mention the previous night and neither did Andrew, glad to focus on the work as much as Neil’s overall allowed him.

By the time they lighted their cigarettes, Andrew had come to terms with what he wanted to do and what he would do.

-

“Why are you giving me this?” Andrew asked as Nicky dropped a bag of fruit flavoured lollipops on the table in front of him.

They had left only the smallest of the kitchen lights on, sitting by the window and staring at their reflections as the clock ticked away two in the morning.

“You have been smoking a lot lately,” Nicky said, slumping further in his seat.

Andrew had not been smoking a lot, not really. He had been letting his cigarette burn down to the filter without taking a drag a lot, the same way Neil did. They just didn’t taste the same they used to, ash on Andrew’s tongue and dust in his lungs.

Still, he ripped the plastic bag open and fished out a strawberry flavoured lollipop out. It promised to be hiding a chewing gum inside.

“I almost kissed him,” Andrew said.

He didn’t say who, because that much was obvious. He didn’t say once, twice, a million times, because the act of coming out was already enough for Nicky to process. Not because Nicky didn’t know or at least suspect the true nature of Andrew’s sexuality, but because Nicky didn’t expect Andrew to ever label himself out loud.

Apparently, Andrew could be more than a label, and even if Neil had been talking about a different kind of label, the sentiment had stuck with Andrew.

Nicky turned to look at Andrew and where Andrew anticipated shock in his eyes, he only found undeniable fondness.

“Why didn’t you?” Nicky asked, like that was the point of the confession. Maybe it was.

“He doesn’t swing.”

“He looked right at you when I said Erik was the hottest man on the planet,” Nicky said softly. “That doesn’t scream ‘not swinging’ to me.”

Of course Nicky would notice that, Andrew mused. But Neil had simply been looking for a way out of the conversation, to escape Nicky’s open affection and the uncomfortable topic. Neil had eyes for exy only, and while that was a shame, it was the reality Andrew couldn’t change. Wouldn’t change even if he could.

“When you met Kevin, you told him to give you something to live for,” Nicky said when he deemed the silence to stretch on for too long. “And for two years, exy, and mostly Kevin’s annoying ass, kept you going.”

That was the deal, one of the first ones Andrew had made. Broken in different ways, Andrew and Kevin leaned on each other when everything else crumbled. Most people didn’t know the deal to be double-sided, but Nicky didn’t forget about Kevin’s end of it.

“But when you are sitting in that courtroom, thinking you are never to see the sunshine again, will you look back and think you have lived enough?” Nicky asked.

Andrew didn’t have an answer for him, not this time. He tore the packaging of the lollipop and stuck the sugar bomb into his mouth, not biting down on it only because he wouldn’t get a dentist in jail.

“I don’t think you will,” Nicky said. “I’m not telling you to fuck around if you don’t feel like it. What kind of parent would I be if I did, right? But if there’s something-“

Nicky paused, sipped his tea.

“If there’s something and you are just too damn pessimistic to give it a try, maybe you should try regardless of what might happen in August. That’s all I’m saying.”

Andrew bit down on the lollipop after all.

Nicky cringed at the crunch and threw a handful of the sweets at Andrew, grumbling about how much growing up Andrew had still left to do.

He wasn’t wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know I am the one who wrote this, but I'm screaming
> 
> The sunflower field scene was one of the very first visions I had for this fic, so it was exciting to finally get to it and bring it to life


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil and Aaron have a fight they refuse to talk about, Andrew drags Neil aside and learns more than he has ever expected to

Brothers or not, Andrew had been absent for most of Aaron’s life, both before and after they met at the age of seventeen.

The after part was Aaron’s wish, screamed when high and bit out when low. On good days, Aaron couldn’t care less about Andrew’s existence and if that existence happened to be in his close proximity. On the bad days, Aaron couldn’t stand to look at Andrew and see his own face staring back.

Andrew went out of his way to avoid Aaron most of the days, if only to keep the camp peaceful. Sometimes it meant rushing from his room straight to the old cabin and sometimes it meant not leaving his room at all.

That afternoon, keeping a closer eye on Aaron could have saved Neil the pain of bruising his not yet healed face again.

“Anyone cares to explain?” Andrew demanded as he burst through the kitchen door, the phone still in hand and Nicky’s name still lit on its display.

Aaron and Neil sat on the opposite sides of the long table, both pressing frozen food to their faces. Neil had the guts to look Andrew in the eye, but neither of them spoke up. Once Aaron set his mind on something, he wouldn’t budge. Andrew suspected neither would Neil.

Nicky stood in between them as if to keep them apart were they to jump at each other again. It was a noble gesture, but as far as Andrew knew, Nicky’s height would grand him no advantage against either of them.

“Assholes,” Nicky cursed when the two in question didn’t bother to answer. “Jerks. Fuckers and non fuckers. Just how old are you?”

Aaron rolled his eyes to the ceiling, but his anger didn’t translate well with the bag of peas against his nose, concealing most of his sour expression. His hands gripped the bag a little too tight, but their skin seemed clean and unbroken. It assured Andrew the fight had been short-lived. Given Aaron’s typical attitude, the biggest injury he would walk away with would be the one of his ego.

“Twenty,” Neil bit out. Out of luck and out of frozen peas, he nursed the corner of his lip with a box of Andrew’s chocolate ice cream.

Nicky sighed, eyes softening as he looked Neil over. The unpleasant bruise from Riko had barely faded and a new one was sure to blossom in its place. It was a price Neil seemed to be okay with paying for running his mouth.

“Good to know,” Andrew said, a loss for words.

If Neil was stupid enough to answer like a sheep or stupid enough to spit sarcasm even when in trouble, Andrew couldn’t tell. He had a strange feeling that with Neil, he probably never would.

Aaron rose from his seat and slammed the frozen peas on the table, startling Neil at the other end of it. As impenitent as ever, Aaron made sure to push Andrew on his way out of the kitchen, stomping down the hall and up the stairs.

Andrew didn’t entertain the petty tantrum. Nicky would, but Andrew stopped him with a light hand on his shoulder. To try to reason with Aaron was an idea as good as pouring fuel into an open fire.

“Let him be.”

Nicky raised his hand to place it over Andrew’s and thought better of it only a breath away from Andrew’s skin, mind catching up with his moments a second too late. Andrew didn’t as much as bat an eye at the slip-up, not after those three years. Nicky still sent him a look of thousand apologies.

Andrew nodded, acknowledging the effort it took Nicky to remember, sometimes.

At last, Nicky turned back to Neil, who sat perfectly still, observing the strange exchange.

“Neil?”

“It’s not worth talking about,” Neil said, expression puzzled.

Nicky suppressed his sigh of disappointment, chest puffed and shoulders tense. Not a single twitch of a muscle in his face gave that struggle away, the strain visible only to those who knew where to look for it. Some things had to run in the family.

“Okay,” Nicky said. “Don’t let him bully you.”

Neil placed the ice cream box on the table, white lines pressed into his swelling cheek. He looked torn, confused why Nicky didn’t differentiate between his cousin and a stranger.

Often, it confused Andrew too. He wondered just how much Nicky hid under that easy smile sewn onto his face. At the end of the day, he couldn’t imagine just how bad he and Aaron had managed to wound Nicky over the years. And If Aaron ever cared about poisoning others while spitting venom with every word, they were equally bad at showing any remorse for their actions.

“I won’t,” Neil said. After a moment of a deep thought clouding his eyes, he added, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Nicky said and he meant it.

It was only after Nicky had shoved everything back in the freezer and left the kitchen that Andrew asked,

“Am I right to assume it was you who threw the first punch?”

At the table, Neil swiped his thumb over his bottom lip as he gazed at Andrew.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Does one need a reason to punch Aaron?”

“You are talking about my brother, I must remind you.”

Neil stood from his seat, crossed the room in a few sure steps. He didn’t crowd Andrew’s space, but he stopped closer than he would have a week earlier. Andrew refused to read that gesture as anything but stupidity.

“Yes,” Neil said. “I don’t understand how anyone can confuse you two.”

Andrew could think of hundreds of reasons, but he found it hard to voice even a single one.

“It’s the face,” Andrew told Neil in the end.

Something in Neil broke, banished the cloud of gloom from his eyes and tugged at his mouth until he allowed himself to show the smallest of smiles.

“Come with me,” Andrew said, offering no further explanation.

Like a fool, Neil followed.

-

Once again, Neil braced himself on the edge of the bathtub in the camp’s tiny bathroom as Andrew loomed over him. With the hazy way the time chose to flow, Andrew found it hard to believe it had been only a week since Neil’s first injury.

That day, after Riko’s cruel blow, Neil wouldn’t let Nicky anywhere near his bloody lip. Shaken and yet raging in Kevin’s stead, Neil had opted to hide at Andrew’s cabin, where no one would dare to look for him. There he licked his own wounds like a wild animal would, long before Andrew thought of seeking him out.

This time, Neil held still while Andrew poked the thin but fairly deep cut of his lip with a disinfection-soaked cotton swab. He flinched every now and then, but he didn’t complain about the sting. Most would find the harsh treatment unnecessary for such a trivial wound, but Neil didn’t say a word.

And that was the problem, really.

Andrew couldn’t remember when he had become a man of excuses. A liar swearing honesty.

It could have been the second Riko swung his fist. It could have been in the middle of a sunflower field, when Neil forced himself to stay awake only to talk. Because Neil knew, impossibly so, that Andrew would talk that early morning. And for some surely twisted reason, Neil had wanted to listen from the very first day.

Whatever moment of the previous month had marked Andrew’s inevitable doom, the end result remained the same. For once in his life, Andrew couldn’t ignore his reflection, his own condemning glare in the mirror. He failed to recognize the man staring back at him.

Andrew couldn’t remember when he had become a man of excuses, but to treat Neil’s wound was one worthy of laughter from the silver screens. The cut didn’t need any special attention, they both knew. The reason why Neil humoured Andrew, allowed Andrew near after the other night, was another question altogether.

“It might scar,” Andrew said, separating himself from his haunting thoughts. He wasn’t sure for much longer he could stand Neil’s calm silence. It tended to be the one before the storm.

Neil returned Andrew’s gaze the way no man could before, steady and fearless despite all he knew of Andrew. He was still yet to comment on the whole process dragging out, Andrew’s hands rough but slow.

“Is the door locked?” Neil asked instead.

“No.”

“Can you lock it?”

Under the weight of Andrew’s questioning look, Neil sucked in a deep breath and tugged at the hem of his thin t-shirt.

“The scars,” Neil said. “You wanted to see them all.”

If anyone asked Andrew, he would tell them that men had always been foolish creatures. They were born afraid of vanishing but not of living, not of the most chilling ordeal of them all. To be seen – to be known – by another.

Andrew and Neil weren’t like most men.

Andrew and Neil knew better than to give out precious shreds of their souls freely. The only things they knew about the other were stolen from them, picture in the news and red paint, secrets they shared only to keep them hidden from the world for a little longer.

Those secrets would catch up with them eventually, of course. Andrew’s trial was a mere page of the calendar away and if one looked close enough, they would already catch hints of brilliant ginger at the very top of Neil’s head again. That didn’t mean they didn’t hang on the threads of their secrets and nightmares and wishes so tight their hands bled.

Neil knew better than to give out precious shreds of his soul freely. It made the certainty in his voice that much breath-taking to hear.

“I did,” Andrew said. “I didn’t expect you to keep your word for one stupid game.”

Neil didn’t even score on Andrew during that practice. He had seemed to enjoy the fact as much as it had frustrated him. Andrew couldn’t figure him out.

“My word is the least I can give you in return,” Neil said. “I intend to keep it for as long as I can.”

Andrew swallowed down the emotion creeping up his throat and nodded. He tossed the used cotton swab and the disinfection bottle in the sink as the bathroom lacked its own trash can. It usually didn’t bother Andrew, but now he needed something to direct his confusing anger at. The lack of a trash can had to do.

He avoided catching his guilt in the mirror as he turned the key in the lock. A man afraid of his own reflection wasn’t worthy of seeing another exposed, but Andrew had come to accept his honesty to be stained by the shadows of his fears.

Steadying himself against the sturdy door, Andrew crossed his arms over his chest and waited. What for, Andrew didn’t know.

The confidence didn’t come to Neil easily, his fingers trembling as he lifted the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. He made a move to toss it aside and then thought better of it, clutching it in his lap as he sat on the bathtub, shirtless and completely rigid despite his earlier words.

But where some may read a cowardness in Neil’s body language, Andrew saw only utter, absolute bravery. And Andrew would have told Neil that much, much more, perhaps, if the sight of Neil’s bare torso didn’t punch all the air out of his lungs.

Andrew didn’t know what he had expected to find on Neil’s milky skin. Given Neil’s jerky movements and hunched posture, maybe some nicks and more perfectly round burn scars. Thin lines that mirrored the ones of Andrew’s own wrists.

Finally, Andrew got his answer. Neil’s cheekbone, too lovely to be declared ruined despite its damage, was only the mere beginning of Neil’s scarring.

Most of the scars were Neil bore scattered over his chest, placed strategically to be hidden under Neil’s t-shirt. Some of them reached as far as his lower stomach, some stretched over his shoulder and to his back.

Andrew’s insides turned, not with disgust and not with sorrow, but with rage burning so hot he was sure he could light the place on fire with his bare hands.

In two steps, Andrew crossed the barely-there distance between him and Neil. He sank to his knees before he could startle Neil by towering over, not willing to risk pulling the trigger. His legs wouldn’t be able to carry him for much longer, anyway.

Andrew didn’t dare to raise a finger as he stared into Neil’s eyes, their blue dull and empty. Washed out like Neil’s grey t-shirts, all he seemed to own.

Neil stared right back. If he found what he had been looking for, Andrew couldn’t tell.

“Was it him?” Andrew asked, his voice as steady as he could possibly fake. “All of this?”

It wasn’t just a scar or two. It was so many of them; they would probably take minutes to count, minutes to memorize. None of them could be blamed on an unfortunate accident, as far as Andrew was concerned. All them spoke of human cruelty that Andrew was familiar with but only crossed ways with a few times.

“Don’t ask me what I cannot answer,” Neil said.

He had to remember Andrew’s advice from all that time ago, when they had run off for a day.

“You can. Abram,” Andrew said and the name felt bittersweet on his tongue, like Andrew would call it for the rest of his life and hate every second of it. “I need to know.”

“Why?”

Andrew closed his eyes, just for a second, to focus. To figure out how to explain himself without pushing Neil in the wrong direction. Without untangling too much the of the threat wrapping around his chest and cutting into his heart.

“What will it change?” Neil asked. “Do you think knowing will mean you know me? Because you do know me. And it’s terrifying just how much, you don’t even realise.”

Andrew opened his eyes to be met with the brilliant blue again, intense the way he was used to. Men were always foolish creatures. He and Neil were no different.

“This is not about knowing you. If I don’t know what to expect, who to expect, how am I to keep my word to you?”

“This is the most I can give you. Isn’t it enough?” Neil asked, his gaze desperate. Then his whole expression fell. “Will it ever be enough?”

Andrew sat back on his heels and didn’t say a word, because for all his lies and ignorance and empty threats, he couldn’t find an answer. Because Neil’s question wasn’t quite what it seemed to be, and if Andrew answered it honestly, he would be tying his thread of secrets around Neil’s pinkie finger.

Looking at Neil, broken and holding together by pure will, a daydream and a nightmare, it might not be the worst way to spend the last month of freedom. The worst Neil could do was to send Andrew to jail early. After years of therapy and learning self-control, Andrew was certain it would take far more than Neil was willing to put into his pushes and jabs.

“You are enough,” Andrew said to the boy sitting on the edge of the bathtub, scarred and annoying and somehow the only person Andrew had ever wanted.

Neil sucked in a shaky breath, may as well stole it right out of Andrew’s lungs. He let his t-shirt fall onto the floor as he let go of the fabric in order to reach out for Andrew. 

Andrew got the hint seconds later, laying his hands in Neil’s cold ones. Neil then guided them to his chest. He placed Andrew’s numb fingers against the biggest scar there and yanked his own away, folded them back in his lap.

The scar was smooth under Andrew’s touch, the way a healed skin was not. Andrew thought of asking Neil about it, but Neil beat him to it.

“A frying pan,” Neil said. “I didn’t know the answer to my homework. It wasn’t an accident, but this one he regretted. It wouldn’t heal for almost two weeks, and he couldn’t send me to school because people would ask.”

Andrew traced the shape of the scar with his finger, gentler than he knew himself to be but still much rougher than Neil’s story deserved.

“He told my teacher I was sick, but I think she never believed him. She never had any evidence to support her guess, though. He had me not participating in P.E.”

“When was that?”

“Middle school. He had me home-schooled once I finished the year. It was one of his own people and it made a lot of things easier to explain. Sometimes when I finished my work early, his teacher would let me watch exy matches.”

The stories went on, one worse than another. Each carved into Andrew’s memory along with the shape and feel of the scar, because Neil had let him touch them all.

The reason was beyond Andrew, but when he unlocked the bathroom door what felt like hours later, his head was full and his chest empty. He strode to his room and dug out the almost empty cigarette box with the twenty-dollar bill and fished out the single cigarette, smoking it out of his open window.

-

Nicky had seen him from the outside, but said nothing over the dinner. Just how much he could read on Andrew’s face was a mystery, but one that Andrew would rather not solve. He himself was afraid what he might find if he looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I wish I was bringing you something ground-breaking after two weeks of my unannounced (unexpected, really) absence, but all I can give you is this. 
> 
> Now, although I am obsessed with my bathroom scenes (there's usually one in each of my works and if not, its because my friends called me out for it), this one is left mostly raw. Left how I wrote it the first time. Because I feel that sometimes, emotional scenes like that, need exactly that. To stay raw. I might edit it one day, but this is goddamn fanfic, not my novel, and for now, I like how it came out. 
> 
> I hope you don't find it disappointing and I am truly sorry for the missed updates, I will try to stay on track from now on!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew finally shares one of his own secrets with Neil and Neil begins to understand the family dynamics of the group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so caught up in remembering that I am a graphic designer that I forgot I am a writer as well! Hopefully, we will have no late updates from now on, but I can't promise anything lol
> 
> This is one of The Chapters, so to be safe, here are the trigger warnings:  
> -mentions of blood, scars, addiction and rehab, suicidal thoughts, death
> 
> I think that's all, but if you come across something else that should be mentioned, don't hesitate to let me know

Andrew played aggressively that morning.

The bounding position of a goalkeeper made it difficult at times, but not always difficult meant impossible. Andrew stepped in the goal filled by enough pent-up rage that the heavy gear of a goalie didn’t weight more than a feather.

The only thing weighing him down was the water in his lungs.

Andrew felt no sentiment for Exy, a sport questionable in its rules and ruthless in its execution. People believed Exy to be called a bastard sport for its origins, but the nickname simply reflected its players. Exy prided itself in the colossal numbers of injuries and fights during the game, a clear message that no soft soul could find their place on the court.

Exy usually held no answers for Andrew, but its cruel ways promised a good alternative of losing himself. Catch and throw. What an easy task to focus on instead of the void clawing at Andrew’s insides. Catch and throw. Better than sitting behind the wheel of the murder truck and stomping on the pedal.

“What was that!” Kevin shouted from the sidelines, voice high-pitched by the frustration that Andrew for once shared.

The Blue Sticks were clumsy at best.

They were kids still not used to their growing out limbs and the first signs of a solid muscle on them. Too young to appreciate all that the puberty had gifted them, they didn’t yet control their newly gained strength. They didn’t yet understand their own stamina and how to pace themselves.

On the court, they ran into each other every now and then. They decked their teammates as well as their opponents. Worst of all, sometimes they seemed to forget about being divided into two groups for the practice game altogether.

Their ankles marked a target so easy that Andrew found very little joy in his flawless aim. He hoped that Kevin bothered with them only for the money their school brought to the camp every year.

Kevin would normally throw a fit about Andrew hurting the players. He would shout about fair play and teamwork and all the other words that carried little to no meaning for Andrew.

That morning, Kevin turned a blind eye to the poor excuse of a game and Andrew’s embodiment of an Exy bastard.

Clicking his tongue, Andrew caught Derek’s miserable attempt of a shot. He tossed the ball up in the air to catch it again, counting down the moments until Kevin blew the whistle and allowed them a not entirely deserved break after the first half. Counted to ten and back. Repeated the numbers in Spanish, Neil’s terrible pronunciation stuck in his head.

Only at the whistle’s sound did Andrew notice Neil lingering by the benches.

Neil lifted a cigarette he wouldn’t smoke up for Andrew to see, an invitation Andrew had dreaded all morning and yet had longed for. It was a part of their routine; there was no point in denying the obvious.

Andrew sent the ball flying right at Derek’s ankle and dropped his racquet, tuning out Derek’s curses of probably mild pain. He tugged his gloves off and refused to acknowledge Kevin staring him down as he crossed the court.

Kevin had to know what day it was.

Neil waited for Andrew with a small smile on his face, soft and unaware. His hair was tied back with a bandana of an obnoxious shade of orange, the notorious colour of the Foxes. A single strand of hair had escaped the bandana at some point, curling by Neil’s temple. It slowly drove Andrew mad with the itch to tug it back.

“Nasty shot,” Neil said as Andrew met him by the sidelines. He voiced the comment as praise instead of admonishment and Andrew hated him.

Not wasting air by answering, Andrew accepted the already lit cigarette Neil had handed him. Skin prickling under the gear, he took a drag and headed away from the court, Neil on his heels.

“Kevin didn’t talk you into playing.”

Andrew had expected the question, even if not in the form of a statement. It was a surprising curve on the line of predictability of Neil’s behaviour, sudden just enough to keep Neil intriguing but not necessarily dangerous.

Andrew stopped by the fence of the camp, away from the noise but still close enough to see Kevin calling them back. He settled in the grass and inhaled the smoke of his cigarette without any desire to taste the nicotine.

His fingers trembled when he focused on them, as traitorous as his thoughts were. If he dared to close his eyes, he would see the flooded road, he was sure. The flooded road and blood spilling into the dirty water, the terrible shadows in the dark cabin of the car.

“He didn’t,” Andrew said.

While another sleepless night hardly surprised Andrew anymore, his voluntary presence at the Blue Sticks’ practice did. Kevin had taken one good look at Andrew and had nodded to himself, turning away before Andrew could have caught his expression.

Kevin had to know.

Andrew had only come to play because the bitter feeling in his chest was threatening to consume him whole if he didn’t let it out first.

“You put in an actual effort,” Neil mused as he collapsed into the grass by Andrew’s side. “Were you not playing to kill, it would have been a perfect game on your part.”

Andrew wanted to laugh, but the sound didn’t make it past his closing throat.

As far as he was concerned, he hadn’t played worse the whole two years of bearing the Fox orange. Then again, the blame for that could fall on the Blue Sticks’ shoulders as much as on his own.

“It’s only fitting for me to play to kill,” Andrew said. “Even if they don’t let me out of the goal for that very reason.”

Only after the words had left his mouth had he realised it was a hint much bigger than he had intended to give. Neil would guess, the way he always did.

Neil would know and Neil would ask. 

And Andrew-

Andrew would tell him just to leave behind at least one person who had heard the story whole.

Neil hummed in thought, unbothered by the jab. He reached over and stole the forgotten cigarette from Andrew’s unsteady hand, bringing it to his lips but not taking a drag. Another strand of hair fell into his forehead with the movement, but he ignored it like the first one.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Neil said. “I mean, they made you a goalie to keep you in check, I know. Kevin told me that much. But-”

Andrew snatched the cigarette back and flicked it onto the ground, crushing it under his sneaker. How stupid it was, to sit in the grass with Neil and be the one wearing an Exy gear. How stupid it was, to indulge Neil in an Exy talk about him.

“But you play as a goalie because you have everyone’s back no matter how bad they mess up. You are the last one standing when everything else goes down,” Neil continued.

Clenching his fists, Andrew stared at him, the disaster of a boy who had nothing but raw talent and wit to his name.

Andrew had to be the most foolish man of them all, allowing yet another person to live in the dark, rotten place that was once his heart.

“It is only fitting for you to play the role of a protector,” Neil said.

The bitter feeling Andrew had been fighting overpowered him with a final blow, the cage of his ribs too small for his lungs. The pain greeted Andrew like an old friend, melancholic at best and piercing at worst. Drowning.

“You are at one hundred percent,” Andrew bit out as he rose to his feet. “If I were you, I wouldn’t push further.”

Neil watched him unbothered by the threat, head tilted back and the bandana slipping down his hair until it fell into the grass.

“Does it erase the one percent where you don’t want to kill me?”

“I wish it did.”

Neil’s face twisted into a frown that wasn’t born out of confusion or anger, but rather an emotion Andrew wouldn’t dare to dream of. Neil picked the bandana up and stuffed it into the pocket of his sweatpants, making no move to follow Andrew.

That was a cue enough for Andrew to turn on his heel and head back to the court.

Neil called out after him, “Why today?”

Andrew stopped only a few steps away. He looked up at the perfectly clear summer sky and felt raindrops on his shoulders, his fingers freezing.

“It’s been three years today,” Andrew said at last. “Three years since she died.”

-

Aaron’s world remained a mystery to everyone, but as Andrew stood in the hall and listened to the shrieking noise that no sane man could call music blasting through Aaron’s door, he thought he might be able to imagine it.

He imagined hell. A labyrinth where Aaron hid himself from everyone, the paths twisted and slippery to excuse how easily he fell each time.

Unlike others, Aaron didn’t try to hold on, jumping into the pit of his sorrows head first and hoping the landing would be the last one. Those to pull him back up always ended up bitten and scratched.

Kevin didn’t need any warning about Aaron’s ruthless ways, but Andrew still sent him one last look of solidarity.

“I will take care of him,” Kevin said.

“I know you will.”

Then Andrew disappeared into his room, letting Kevin pick up the pieces of his brother and hold them together for the day.

-

Licking their wounds and moaning about the afternoon practice to come, the Blue Sticks piled into the dining room in an uncharacteristically organized manner. They slowly filled up the empty spots, sending wary looks in Andrew’s direction.

Alone at the table in the corner, Andrew ignored them and their hopes of apologies. His absence at their practice for the rest of their stay had to be enough of a penance.

Derek sunk into a seat across Andrew with a loud thud, grinning as he unwrapped his sandwich.

“As much as we all, and especially I, fancied witnessing you playing some hardcore stickball, you took the hardcoreness of it a bit too far,” Derek said.

Andrew stared at the kid, but murder glares rarely scared Derek off. If he read them wrong or truly lacked the instinct of self-preservation, Andrew could never tell. Judging by Derek’s eating manners, it was the latter.

“Maybe Kevin should let you play like that,” Derek muttered, mouth half-full. 

“Maybe he should,” Andrew said.

He gathered his plate and left before Derek could get the wrong idea that a conversation was an option. It never was.

-

Andrew had never had the chance to think about things as trivial as his favourite colour, but if he had to decide on one right then, it would be yellow. It would be the colour of the sunflowers under the late afternoon sun, the kind of shade of yellow that deserved to be called golden.

They had not come to talk about favourite colours though.

Neil had followed Andrew under the silent promise of a truth whole and unbiased. For Neil’s story of Abram, Andrew would give him the inglorious story of Tilda.

The most Andrew could lose was a decent company for his last two weeks of freedom. The most he could gain was redemption in at least one pair of eyes. Andrew wouldn’t bet on the odds, but the deal presented itself as fair enough.

Fairness did nothing to calm Andrew’s erratic heartbeat.

Neil plucked one of the smaller flowers by the dirt road off. Just a few feet away from the parked truck, he dropped his duffle bag and followed it, settling on the dry ground. The tall plants behind him shielded him from the still-burning sun, their leaves rested on his shoulders. Some of the heavier flowers bent forward as if to kiss the crown of his head while he cradled one of their own in his lap.

Andrew’s favourite colour could only be the vivid yellow that seemed to belong in Neil’s dark curls.

Neil had lost the bandana from the morning. After the Exy practice, he exchanged his typical baggy t-shirt for the light blue shirt Nicky had given him ages ago. The sleeves reached as far as the last set of knuckles of his fingers, guarding the scars Neil had chosen to trust Andrew with the other day.

Andrew lacked that reckless and yet sure courage Neil proved to possess. He sat beside Neil and for all his determination, he couldn’t find the right words to begin with.

It was an accident, Andrew could say, and Neil would believe him. Out of everything bad and ugly packed into the short period that was twenty-one years, only that day Andrew had come to truly regret. It should have been him, he could admit.

“My mother slit her own throat,” Neil said, offering Andrew a way out.

His words were too crude for someone holding a sunflower like a child on their first field trip. Then again, Andrew couldn’t imagine Neil being allowed to go on field trips.

“She killed herself when I was thirteen ‘cause she couldn’t take it anymore.”

Andrew dared to sneak a glance at Neil. A sorrow aged his features of barely a man into someone Andrew hardly recognized. For a second, Neil was the stranger by the side of a flooded road once more, cold-eyed and one step in his coffin.

If anything, the expression on Neil’s face was a painful reminder of how little had Andrew allowed himself to know about Neil until that point.

“No one tells you how fast it is over,” Neil continued. “Or how it feels like ages nevertheless.”

“No kid should be told that.”

Neil chuckled, the sound nothing but a bitter whisper echoing through the field as he plucked a single petal of the flower in his lap and tossed it aside.

“I suppose,” he agreed and paused for a moment too long before he spoke again, “Andrew-“

“Tilda was an addict for most of her adult life,” Andrew cut in. “When I met her at eighteen, she was barely a walking memory of herself.”

Another petal flew off after being torn, carried by the soft summer wind far away from the two of them. Neil pointedly avoided looking at Andrew.

“It was Aaron who wanted me to come live with them after juvie, not her,” Andrew said.

Neil showed no signs of surprise at the statement that most would not believe.

On the bad days, when Aaron would search for Andrew’s car keys and demand a ride too, Andrew found it hard to believe the memory himself. Aaron had once, naïve in his youth, wished for a brother.

Andrew, as unwise as Aaron had been, wished for him still.

“Aaron would do anything to keep his mother alive for a little longer, no matter all that she’s done to him. I convinced him to get her admitted into a rehabilitation centre. While she was gone and unable to influence Aaron, I could get him clean as well.”

Neil hummed. “What went wrong?”

“It was Aaron supposed to drive her, but I forced him to switch the last minute. I didn’t trust him to make the hard choices once she started begging and promising to get better.”

The third petal Neil plucked off landed in Andrew’s outstretched, awaiting palm. He trapped it in his fist, crumpling it as he counted. On ten, he loosened his fingers and the wind stole the broken petal away. Andrew’s eyes followed it as far as they could.

“It was raining that day,” he said. “I couldn’t see a foot ahead and the roads flooded fast.”

Neil nodded. One by one, he continued to tear the petals off, tossing them in the air as if he was asking the flower for yes or no the way kids did.

“When she realised I wasn’t Aaron, she freaked out. She called her brother and cried about how I was going to get rid of her for giving me up. She tried to get out of the car.”

“Did she?”

“No,” Andrew said. “As we were fighting, the car slid off the road. It was an old sedan, a box on wheels. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt and we hit a tree.”

Andrew didn’t need to carry on.

The crushing weight on his chest eased into a familiar ache, one that Andrew could live with. One that he would always live with, squeezing his lungs but not giving him the easy way out by suffocating him.

At last, Neil titled his head to look at Andrew.

A leaf tickled his scarred cheek. He pushed it off only for it to come flying back, slapping him until he lost the nerve and snapped it in half. He then stretched his arms out, the long sleeves sliding down his bony fingers and slender wrists.

Foolishly, Andrew thought that had he been holding those hands, the answer for the question forming in Neil’s head would come to him easier.

“It was an accident,” Neil said. “What turned it into a murder trial?”

Andrew’s breath hitched somewhere halfway his throat. Before he caught himself, his eyes darted to the truck and the bright red word haunting him day and night. For the first time Andrew could remember, he wished to erase the accusation from the truck and the records.

“The phone call. After being scammed a month earlier, Luther happened to be recording all of his incoming calls.”

Neil frowned, brushing the remains of the sunflower off his lap. His eyes danced over Andrew’s face and whatever they had found, they seemed to be satisfied with.

“Nicky’s father,” he mumbled to himself as he began to roll the left sleeve up. “But how can a phone call be enough evidence?”

“It wasn’t. Two years ago, the judge ruled it out as an accident given the lack of evidence of my motives. They decided to reopen the case with a new lawyer last fall.”

“The fall,” Neil repeated as he tried to make sense of the timing. Andrew saw the exact moment he connected the dots and the realisation dawned on him. “They had waited for your birthday, hadn’t they?”

Andrew dug out his cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, his hands unsteady the way they had been the whole day. Useless, traitorous things.

Without a word, Neil snatched both and lit Andrew’s stick for him, holding it up between his fingers for Andrew to take. Had Andrew not been careful, his lips would brush the rough skin of Neil’s fingertips. What Andrew would do then, he didn’t dare to imagine.

“Nicky was the one on a mail duty the day the letter from the court came,” Andrew admitted with the slow exhale of smoke.

A memory like Andrew’s wouldn’t forget anything, but the sight of Nicky’s final heartbreak had been burned behind his eyelids with scorching hatred.

Neil rolled his right sleeve up with visible difficulty. He stole a cigarette out of Andrew’s almost empty box and brought it to his lips with a clear intention to smoke that one.

“It was an accident,” Neil said, not allowing Andrew to divert his attention off the topic. “If you were planning on killing her, you could have ended up killing yourself too. What sense would that make?”

“They can only reopen the case with new evidence. It might as well be my medical records from months before her death.”

Neil froze with the cigarette a breath away from his mouth. “Andrew-“

How funny it was, that this was the thing that shocked him speechless. Not Riko, not Aaron’s addiction, not Andrew’s trial. All it took was something as simple as Andrew wishing to have never been born.

“You showed me yours,” Andrew said, voice pitched with the bitterness. “Wanna see mine?”

“Not if you don’t want to show me.”

“They aren’t as creative as yours, I must admit,” Andrew went on, ignoring Neil’s words and how deep they burrowed into his heart. “They might disappoint you greatly.”

“Nothing about you can disappoint me,” Neil said, finally taking the drag. “Your medical records still cannot be enough to convict you of murder though.”

Logically, they couldn’t. In a perfect world, they wouldn’t. But it was people who ran the world and people could be convinced. Threatened, bought over. While the innocent would die or rot away between four walls, those with dirty hands could show them off as a price as long as they held the power.

Who held the power in Andrew’s case Andrew didn’t know, but even with Kevin’s expensive lawyer, it had been never him.

“Whatever ace they believe to have up their sleeve, I will only know next week.”

“Next week?”

“A lawyer visit,” Andrew said. “They prepare you for the stand.”

Neil nodded. He smoked the rest of his cigarette in silence, gaze hard on the sunflower field.

Andrew finished his cigarette and pulled out another, opting to destroy his lungs before their thorns destroyed him first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .. Rough, right? 
> 
> This is probably a good time to mention that all I know about the American justice system comes from How to get away with murder, so... Yeah .. Take everything I say about the law with some humour because I'm not studying American law just to write this fic :D
> 
> Anyway, here's what's gonna happen:
> 
> Either today or tomorrow, I will post a short chapter that will finish the first part of the story (there are only two parts, fear not) and then I will probably try to post some of the missing scenes from Neil up until this point. Then we will just continue with the story like normal
> 
> (if I can't put together the Neil's special, we will just skip it and never speak of it again)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil asks Andrew for something Andrew cannot offer, Aaron confronts Andrew and Andrew begins to understand he has to face his many demons

“I want you to kiss me,” Neil said as they climbed into the truck hours later.

Andrew forced the car’s engine to life, and while it hummed, he would swear it skipped a beat in sync with his heart. He would swear he made the words coming from Neil’s mouth up.

“Is this an experiment or an existential crisis?” Andrew asked.

Neil tossed his ever-present duffle bag onto the backseat, shifting so he faced Andrew with that puzzled expression of his. The slowly setting sun painted his cheeks pink and highlighted his wind tousled hair, the dye washed out ever so slightly. He looked like a dream that Andrew wished to never wake up from.

His words, on the other hand, were a nightmare that only the darkest corner of Andrew’s mind could come up with. Neil was supposed to never acknowledge Andrew’s hysterical confession.

“I really want to say neither, but I can’t be sure until you do,” Neil admitted.

Andrew scoffed, flicked his finger against the dashboard. Uncertainty gave birth to the worst kind of regret, Andrew would know. If Neil was to leave the camp nursing a regret with Andrew’s name in bold letters, it wouldn’t be born out of Andrew’s selfishness. 

“You are not in your right mind.”

“You said you wanted to,” Neil said. “I know you weren’t lying. What has changed?”

Andrew sighed and killed the engine to cut it some slack.

“I’m not doing anything you aren’t sure of,” he said. “I refuse to be responsible once your yes turns into a no.”

“How else am I supposed to know?” Neil asked, gesturing between the two of them. “How else am I supposed to figure this out? Tell me and I will.”

“Take an online quiz,” Andrew uttered before he caught himself. Before he caught the meaning of Neil’s allusion. “There is no this. I am not your solution nor your answer.”

“If you are the question, then only you can be the answer.”

Neil gazed at Andrew like he was a breath away from the answer he looked for. 

Unable to bear the weight of that look, Andrew reached out and stopped an inch short of Neil’s scarred cheek.

“You said you didn’t swing,” Andrew reminded Neil, and his fingers trembled with the familiar itch. “Isn’t that your answer?”

Neil didn’t swing and yet he had been the one to teach Andrew the difference between attraction and feelings. 

That acknowledgement came with melancholy that Andrew didn’t recognize. It spoiled the taste of the cigarettes and his too sweet tea, made him count so often he considered learning another language just for its numbers. It shortened his night talks with Nicky and prolonged his daily escapes to the point where Nicky had asked him if he was okay.

_ No _ , Andrew had told him honestly. 

Had he not known the difference, he could kiss Neil. Had he not known the difference, perhaps he could stomach the possibility of living as Neil’s worst regret. 

However, Andrew was well aware of the line between attraction and feelings. 

It started and ended with Neil.

“It had been my answer until you,” Neil said. He leaned into Andrew’s touch, skin burning under Andrew’s always cold fingers. “Now I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it before I met you. Is that wrong?”

Russian, Andrew pondered, could be fun for counting. Some of the Asian languages would be difficult to pronounce but would widen his horizons. Maybe he could learn the word for the liar in all the languages of the world. 

Maybe if he was honest with Neil this once, he would be forgiven for a lifetime of lies dressed as the truth. 

“It isn’t,” Andrew said. 

Neil heaved a sigh, his eyes slipping shut. He looked so young then; too young to have a half of his life stolen from him and the other half-ruined by violence. 

Andrew pressed his fingertips against Neil’s burn scars, as softly as his body was capable of. They both were too young, aged by sorrows that people watched on the TV screens to escape the normality of their lives. 

“Ask me again if you are ever sure.”

Neil nodded, opened his mouth only to close it again. “I will,” he said in the end, and Andrew knew it was not what he had intended. 

Jerking his hand back, Andrew decided it didn’t matter. There was no point in fixating on ifs – Neil being the biggest of them.

-

Aaron lurked in the very back of the camp’s parking lot as Andrew pulled in. In the fading dusk light, Andrew couldn’t make out his expression, but Aaron’s rigid posture was a hint more than obvious.

After he and Kevin had paid a visit to his mother, he had not come to talk.

“Stay back,” Andrew told Neil as he waited for Aaron to move out of Andrew’s designed spot. “No stupid ideas this time.”

Neil huffed in annoyance at the jab, but his narrowed eyes on Andrew’s face spoke of concern Andrew didn’t deserve on his best days.

“You think he’s going to fight or something?” Neil asked.

Andrew wouldn’t call Aaron’s bursts of aggression a fight.

Aaron spent all his days trapped in his head with his nightmares as his playmates, building sandcastles out of paranoia and wasted time. He detested the only person who understood how lonely it could get, to trust no one, the least of all himself. 

Sometimes Andrew thought there was nothing good left in Aaron, but he wasn’t giving up.

Not yet.

It wasn’t often, but Andrew could see pieces and shreds of who Aaron used to be in the rare moments of Aaron losing himself enough to be found. 

The harsh lines of his face softened when he drunk danced with Kevin, clumsy in his movements but uncaring about who saw. Nicky occasionally introduced him to a song that had him humming the lyrics under his breath as he cooked, as long as he believed to be alone in the kitchen. Derek swore he made Aaron chuckle once. 

During Riko’s visit, Andrew used their old knocking signal and Aaron answered it.

It wasn’t a lot, but if Aaron had been broken once, those pieces promised he could be whole again. Aaron wasn’t strong enough to hold himself up and together yet; Andrew wasn’t sure how to get him to that point. He believed leaving Aaron in Nicky’s and Kevin’s care was a first step good enough.

Andrew wouldn’t call Aaron’s bursts of aggression a fight. In a fight, two or more parties were involved, and for all of Aaron’s cruelty, Andrew wouldn’t fight him back.

“I know he will,” he told Neil, because that was the easier explanation. One that Neil would understand. 

“Then I-“

“You will stay back, mind your business for once, and let me take care of it.”

It didn’t take a genius to see how much Neil disliked the idea, for whatever reason his exy oriented brain managed to come up with. He unfastened his seatbelt and reached for his duffle bag in the backseat. The soft material of his shirt tickled Andrew’s arm although Neil took care not to touch him.

Neil flopped back onto his seat with the bag on his lap, and not for the first time, Andrew itched to ask him what exactly he hid there. 

“Andrew-“

“Abram.”

Neil sighed and kicked the truck’s door. “Sorry,” he mumbled right after, as if the car didn’t survive way worse damage. As if the car would demand an apology after all it’s been done to it.

Andrew waved him off.

When it became clear that Aaron wouldn’t step out of the truck’s way, Andrew killed the engine. He shot Neil one last warning glare before he climbed out of the truck, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe it had any effect on Neil.

Aaron didn’t waste time with greetings, striding right for Andrew. Up close, he smelled like vodka and weed and sweat, a nauseating combination Andrew had gotten used to in the three years he spent shadowing Aaron. 

The first hit always hurt the most. That’s what people liked to tell Andrew when he was a child and they lived in the blissfully ignorant belief he was yet to face any act of violence. 

It did hurt, although Andrew had braced himself for it.

The second and the third and the fourth did as well, but Andrew made no move to block or avoid them. He made no move to return them, and if it frustrated Aaron further, he poured that anger into the fifth one. 

Aaron would tire out soon. Andrew would then drag him to the safety of his room, let him sleep it off and pretend nothing had happened the next day.

“You fucking killed her!” Aaron shouted, and Andrew let him. “You killed her!”

Aaron always aimed for the face; he took a wicked pleasure in ruining Andrew’s. It was a mirror image of his own features, and if there was someone Aaron couldn’t stand at all, it was himself.

“I did,” Andrew said, licking the blood out of the corner of his lip. “I did.”

For those words, Aaron gifted him a nasty right hook. Had it not hurt like hell, Andrew would find the time to be impressed by the improvement.

“You killed her when it should have been me,” Aaron bit out. 

Behind them, the truck’s door flew open with a loud creak and a heartbeat later Neil stood by Andrew’s side, tugging at his sleeve like a lost child.

“Fight back!” Neil yelled while trying to drag Andrew away from Aaron, his effort to no avail. Andrew shook him off and he stumbled backwards with an irritated groan. “Don’t just let him beat you up for something you haven’t done!”

Aaron just then seemed to notice Neil’s presence, his glare over Andrew’s shoulder hard but void of any emotion. He took a wobbly step forward, and Andrew fought the urge to steady him as his high started to wear off.

“What do you know,” Aaron said. “Besides fucking around with my brother. Will you send him photos to the jail or will you just find another guy to sugar daddy you?”

Neil darted for Aaron with speed Andrew hadn’t seen from him even on the court. He wasn’t a fighter, however, and his clumsiness that allowed Andrew to react before things took a much uglier turn. 

Catching the collar of Neil’s shirt, Andrew yanked him as far back as Neil would go. It wasn’t more than a foot. Neil’s strength was born from his will, not his lanky body. Unfortunately for Andrew, he seemed dead set on concerning himself with Andrew’s battle. He dug his heels into the ground and would not allow himself to be pushed behind Andrew, where he belonged. 

“You know nothing about your brother ‘cause you never bothered to ask,” Neil snapped at Aaron. “And he lets you get away with your bullshit ‘cause he believes it’s his fault that you turned into an addicted wreck full of nothing but big words someone else spat into your mouth.”

Andrew released his grip on Neil’s collar just in time for Neil to dodge Aaron’s sluggish punch. 

The miss threw Aaron’s balance off. The alcohol and the weed caught up with him as he struggled to find his footing again. 

Andrew seized the opportunity to grab his shoulders, holding him up as well as pacifying him from another attempt at lunging at Neil. 

“Go find Nicky,” Andrew told Neil. “Tell him I’m bringing Aaron back.”

Neil’s scowl hinted that he would gladly leave Aaron on the parking lot for the night and the day, but he nodded nevertheless. He clutched his duffle bag closer to his chest and swallowed his complaints, jogging towards the main gate.

Andrew watched him before he disappeared in the darkness.

Aaron slumped in Andrew’s hold, his forehead banging against Andrew’s chest as he muttered something Andrew couldn’t make out. 

It was for the best, Andrew mused as he pulled Aaron’s arm around his shoulders and began the dreadful trip over half of the camp’s property. Aaron was a little to no help, his feet dragging behind him as Andrew half carried him across the grass. 

Nicky waited for them by the door of the main’s building, expression twisted with anxiety. It shattered once Andrew stepped into the light and Nicky got a good look at the mess Aaron had probably created on his face.

“The air is clear,” Nicky said, his gaze falling onto Aaron. “Kevin is keeping them entertained.”

“Then we have no time to waste,” Andrew announced cheerfully and it did nothing to brighten Nicky’s eyes.

Together they hauled Aaron up the stairs and into his room. They closed his window and forced him to gulp down a glass of water and then there was nothing left to do. 

-

Andrew sat on the edge of the bathtub and debated whenever cleaning the dried blood off his face was worth the bother. 

His face had not ached until he had caught his reflection in the tiny mirror and laughed at how old that image was. 

Now he couldn’t tell if it was Aaron’s rage or Neil’s impulsiveness at fault for his throbbing headache.

-

The night was warm, but Andrew still nodded at Nicky’s offer of a hot chocolate.

He sat by the window and pulled his socked feet up to rest on the window sill, careful not to kick the mint plant’s baby blue flowerpot off. A book lay in his lap untouched, a distraction he thought to bring with him but found he didn’t have the energy for. He knew all its words by heart anyway.

Nicky placed the steaming mug on the table and pushed his chair next to Andrew’s. He stifled a yawn with the long sleeve of his pullover, clearly stolen from Erik. That night, he stayed up with Andrew on his own accord, not because of insomnia forcing his eyes wide open.

Andrew hated him a little for it. 

He hated himself for appreciating the gesture. He hated himself a lot for not being able to express his gratitude for all that Nicky had done.

Outside, in the distance, one of the cabins still had its light on as well. Andrew didn’t have to ask to know it was where some of the Blue Sticks resided. Tomorrow, they would moan about Kevin’s harsh drills and harsher critiques. That night, they lived a teenage life so simple Andrew had a hard time imagining it.

The light flickered off and Andrew stared into the darkness embracing the camp.

-

They sat in silence for hours.

-

“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” Nicky said as the sun began to climb up the sky, halfway his third coffee. “Pretend that Aaron isn’t dragging you down with him, tearing you apart as well.”

“Do you blame him?” Andrew asked.

“I don’t,” Nicky said. He stood up and stretched out, no point in slipping into bed then. “But I don’t blame you either.”

Andrew huffed. “What do you want me to do then?”

Nicky gathered the empty mugs and stuffed them into the dishwasher before he searched the cabinets for the snacks Kevin always hid. 

Kevin rarely succeeded, but that didn’t stop him from trying again. He was stubborn like that, even off the court. Was he not, Andrew’s life would be much duller.

“I want you to fight back,” Nicky said. “I want you to fight back Aaron and the judge and my parents. I want you to fight back those who wronged you – starting with yourself.”

“How have I wronged myself?”

“You never admitted you are innocent out loud.”

Andrew had not. 

He stared out of the window and itched for a cigarette, itched to poke and scratch his bruises until they bled. He itched to feel anything but the hysteria rising up his throat. 

Under the layers of false acceptance and dismissal hid a part of Andrew that longed to hear not guilty. Andrew couldn’t admit to bearing that small, terrified ghost of himself.

Nicky finally found a bag of forgotten potato chips. He ripped the bag open and stuffed handful in his mouth, waiting for an answer Andrew could not give him.

Everyone wanted answers from him, but all Andrew had was more questions.

“I’m going to check on Aaron,” Andrew announced instead.

-

Derek and his two closest friends were the loudest ones in the protest against Kevin’s methods that morning, but that much shouldn’t have surprised Andrew. Kevin ordered them to run twenty laps, uncaring about their sleeping habits or parties. 

_ If you want to party you must know how to play afterwards _ , he told the Blue Sticks, and Andrew wanted to laugh. 

The Foxes’ coach had said that to them once, when half of his team sat bent over in case they felt like puking their guts out again. Some of them did, and Wymack yelled at them for so long his face reddened like a tomato. Back then, even Andrew cracked a smile that only Matt saw and no one else believed to be real.

As the kids groaned but eased into a jog, Kevin joined Andrew on the bench, his face promising nothing but trouble.

“Everyone agreed to come this weekend,” he said, because he knew to be straightforward with Andrew. “By Monday we should be complete.”

Andrew blew cigarette smoke in Kevin’s direction to express his excitement of the early reunion. As if the cheerleaders weren’t enough, Foxes would roam the camp as well. So far, Andrew’s last, peaceful summer had not been peaceful at all.

“And none of them have anything better to do than to play stickball here?”

Kevin bit down his curse at the offensive term for his beloved sport, but barely. He clutched the whistle hanging around his neck and if Andrew knew him as well as he thought he did, then Kevin was counting in French.

“It seems so.”

“Of course,” Andrew said. “It never ends.”

“What doesn’t?”

Andrew waved his hand around, gesturing at the Blue Sticks slacking off running their laps and Kevin and the camp and everything.

“My suffering.”

Kevin sighed. “Sometimes I wish you were punchable.”

“Ask Aaron for tips. He would know.”

Kevin’s whole body tensed, his shoulder rising up to his ears. He still reacted to the mentions of Riko like that sometimes, before he caught himself. Andrew was the last person Kevin needed to be afraid of, but they both knew that logic meant very little to a victim’s reflexes. 

“About that-“

Andrew shook his head. He stubbed his cigarette and clenched his fists in his lap, unsure what to do with them. His fingers still remembered the soft skin of Neil’s cheek and they still remembered Aaron’s sweaty forehead. It was unravelling.

“I don’t want your apologies, Kevin,” Andrew said. “You did what I asked for, and the rest is not your responsibility.”

“Right,” Kevin said.

He returned to the court to scold the kids without saying anything else, but the tension stayed in his shoulders.

-

Andrew didn’t hear Neil approaching, but he knew Neil would come eventually. 

These days, it took Neil less and less amount of time to notice Andrew missing. Most of the days, he walked into a room already looking for Andrew and Andrew couldn’t, even if he wanted to, pretend he didn’t notice.

Andrew had sat on the roof of his ruin of a cabin for barely ten minutes when Neil jogged down the path between the trees. 

Dressed in his plain t-shirt and the terrible overall, Neil climbed up the cabin’s window and onto the roof with practised ease. He settled beside Andrew and held his hand out for the cigarette Andrew planned on smoking but was yet to bring to his lips.

“I hate you,” Andrew said, passing him the smoldering stick.

“Hard to believe you when you say it like that,” Neil shot back. 

Like what, Andrew didn’t ask. He did not wish to know how exactly his words sounded to Neil, how much they gave away and how little they managed to hide. Some things were better off left unspoken, and the thing between the two of them fell into that category. 

“Nasty bruise you got here,” Neil continued. “Nicky says we match now.”

“You seem to be into a very good mood for someone who’s about to be pushed off a roof.”

Neil shrugged and took a drag. He held the smoke in his mouth for a moment and then blew right into Andrew’s face. If it was a smoker thing or he just imitated Andrew would remain a mystery Andrew didn’t feel too pressed to solve.

“I have one last thing to ask,” Neil said.

“Ask then.”

“Why would Nicky’s parents go to such lengths with the trial?”

At eighteen, Andrew pondered about their motives often. He didn’t dare to ask Nicky until he was nineteen and by the time he turned twenty, he had a pretty solid idea about their twisted faith. 

“A son from a good Christian family decides to take in a foster child who had killed his mother. It was a disgrace to their name, unless they did the right thing and brought poor Tilda the justice her soul deserved. And If I was convicted, then surely Nicky would let go of his foolish, misguided idea too.”

Neil rolled the cigarette between his fingers, his face solemn as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“That’s why they disowned Nicky when you won the first trial?”

“Nicky chose us over his own parents,” Andrew said. 

Andrew didn’t say that Nicky chose _Andrew_ over his own parents, because Andrew couldn’t bear the weight of that particular truth. He didn’t say it was why he took Neil in, to repay the universe the favour if he could never repay Nicky.

Neil seemed to know.

Neil seemed to know all the things that mattered, and for that, Andrew couldn’t bring himself to hate him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot each time you spot the word 'answer' if you want to become an alcoholic! You can't call me out unless I call myself out first right :D
> 
> Anyway this concludes the first part of the story! I cannot promise when the next update will be, as life happens and I am kinda demotivated to write these days (I am mostly writing for my no1 support homie @greetmewithgoodbye and maybe two other people at this point, but that's the life of us creators lmao)
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this and I will see u soon!


	17. A special chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes that shaped Neil's views of the camp, Nicky, Kevin, Andrew, Aaron, and most importantly, himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This barely a half of what I had planned to write, but writing Neil is hard, I have other things to focus on, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting forever as I'm already writing the next normal chapter as well
> 
> Check the end notes for some spicy (and maybe not) notes and comments I wanted to talk about lol
> 
> If you wish to simply skip this little chapter, you will not miss anything important that wouldn't get mentioned later in the story

Nathaniel Wesninski, despite his love for the bastard sport known as Exy, was not a team player.

Whenever the need for independence on and off the court ran in his veins or had been beaten into him, Nathaniel couldn’t tell. How he had come to adore a team sport with the mindset of a lone wolf, he didn’t know either.

In the great scheme of things, neither of those facts mattered.

As a runaway who had no room for fair play or cooperation, Nathaniel operated as a one-man team. He knew only talent and hunger, and while he sometimes questioned the former, he felt the hunger always.

It was the hunger humming in his veins that got him stopping dead in his tracks about a hundred feet away from the fence he had been planning on climbing over. 

Nathaniel would recognize an Exy court anywhere, but he had not expected to find one in an ancient camp at the very edge of the world. It was clearly smaller than officially required, withering away in the corner of the property. The fault of its dirty, flooded state fell on the heavy rain, but Nathaniel doubted the court could be used on a good day.

And yet, Nathaniel couldn’t just pass it by.

He waded through the wild water rushing down the hill and his ears rang with all the hissed warnings and advice from his mother. She wouldn’t want him to waste time, the only thing he needed and yet couldn’t hold, by observing a ruin of an Exy court. She wouldn’t allow him anywhere near it in the first place.

If she didn’t dig herself up from six feet under, she wasn’t there to see.

Soaked through and through already, Nathaniel didn’t bother to avoid the big puddles, his sneakers long past saving. If he was to follow his mother into a coffin under a name she had hated as much as he did, dying of terrible flu still sounded like one of the better options. For someone who had barely turned twenty, Nathaniel had one too many options of his death lined up.

Nathaniel clutched his old, worn-out but still practical duffle bag close to his chest. Everything in need of staying dry was stuffed in it, money and fake IDs and three outfits that would catch the attention of no one. He packed some of the things he had been lent and decided to keep. If they were to be missed by the Bright Fox camp’s owner, Nathaniel couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about biting the offering hand.

The two men at the camp may remember Nathaniel for his sudden arrival and exit, forever connecting his face to a stranger’s name. They may mention him as a funny story – that one guy they found in the middle of the road and lost again in the span of twenty-four hours.

But Nathaniel was not stupid enough to sit in the cabin he had been led into, by a stranger, and simply wait the rain out. Once the storm had stopped, his father would start searching. Not because of worry or love or any other emotions that Nathaniel knew only on the paper.

Nathan Wesninski, a promising candidate for the mayor, would hate to have his public image of a single father raising an orphaned, mute son destroyed. 

Nathaniel thought that the role of a mourning father would gain him as much, if not more, attention and votes. Whenever his father agreed or not would become clear soon enough.

The warmth and the roofing of the car for over two hours had restored most of Nathaniel’s energy, but he still found himself breathless when he reached the Exy court. 

From the little that Nathaniel had seen, the camp was nothing like the fancy resorts his father liked to stay at. The brightest star of the place had to be the Exy court and Nathaniel decided so despite the court’s size and state.

Nathaniel stopped by the benches that lined the sides of the court, flashlight clutched in numb fingers, and took a moment to breathe. The storm raged on. Nathaniel knew that if he was to climb the fence then, he wouldn’t make it through the deep woods far. 

His plan hadn’t been much, but the biggest failure was to be blamed on the camp’s location. 

Nathaniel had accepted the offer of a ride in a belief the camp in question would lay close to a village or town. From there, he would jump on a train or a bus and leave the state. He would go as far as he could and then a little farther, until he himself didn’t remember who he once was.

As the journey stretched out for hours of and the road remained surrounded by nothing but woods and fields, his plan had crumbled.

Now, in the seemingly never-ending storm, Nathaniel had nowhere to go except back. 

He did.

The cabin Nathaniel was supposed to occupy smelled of old wood and dust. The bunkbed quaked with the slightest of movements, its mattresses a little too hard. It had no electricity and depended on a weak wall light whose batteries had not been changed in a while.

The best the cabin had to offer was its roof, which protected Nathaniel from the storm so far so he could fall into a fitful sleep.

-

Neil, he had told them, and so as Neil he had been reborn. 

-

Andrew looked a few inches short of becoming a threat to Neil’s life, but Neil knew better than to trust appearances. Andrew waited for a slip-up as patiently as Neil did, and that promised nothing good to be hiding behind his passive face and bored stare. 

Wordlessly, they circled each other for hours. Neil itched to escape the attention of everyone, to slip into the shadows and catch his breath, but Andrew wouldn’t allow Neil out of his sight until the night fell on the camp.

After the long day, Neil found a moment of peace in the second biggest room of the building. It reminded Neil of a public living room, the kind of place that his father would invite his important guests to, except a lot less polished. Its furniture considered of mismatched cabinets and bookcases and two large sofas with three armchairs, all worse for the wear but pristine clean. 

Neil settled in one of the armchairs, trapping his duffle bag to his body as he pulled his knees up to his chest. His whole body would ache the following morning, but the little relief that the uncomfortable sleep offered would do. 

It had to. Neil refused to try his luck by falling asleep on the sofa and giving his body a free pass to become vulnerable. 

He was dozing off, one foot well in the unconsciousness, when Nicky entered the room. He stopped in front of Neil wearing a pitiful expression, arms full of fabric. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you would want to go to sleep so early,” he stage whispered. “I don’t think anyone in this building is capable of falling asleep before midnight, so it really didn’t cross my mind we could have a normal person over.”

Neil blinked the sleep tugging at his heavy eyelids off, straightening in the armchair as far as his already sore neck tolerated. 

Nicky spoke more than anyone Neil had ever met. He liked to use a lot of words to say essentially nothing. He could be a little naïve about some matters and unfiltered about others, obnoxious at times. The kindness Nicky offered didn’t do anything to lower Neil’s guard. 

If anything, Neil grew warier and warier of the expiration date of his sympathy with each of his seemingly selfless gesture. Now, at the pity in Nicky’s eyes, every nerve in Neil’s body screamed to run.

“Let’s go,” Nicky said.

“Where?” Neil asked, but he was already back on his feet. 

The storm outside raged on still, but Neil would walk into it with a stomach full and duffle bag fuller. He had not taken much, not enough to cause anyone trouble worse than one trip to the store. He grabbed the bare necessities after Andrew had dismissed him, snacks to keep him going and random things that weighted nothing but could save his life. Painkillers and a small bottle of alcohol for possible wounds, a rope and scissors and a carpet knife from the storage room.

“To your room of course! Come on, you will fall asleep like a horse.”

Neil stared after Nicky’s departing figure and waited for the punchline of the joke. He waited for Nicky to burst into giggles and Andrew to step out from behind a curtain, a cruel smile on his face as he emptied Neil’s bag onto the floor.

The punchline never came, because Nicky wasn’t joking. 

Neil grew up thanking everyone for nothing, but he wasn’t used to expressing genuine gratitude. He wasn’t sure he had anything as virtuous as gratitude left in him.

Nicky led him up the stairs and down a dark hall until they stopped in front of two doors. They seemed identical until Neil noticed a tiny, torn sticker on one of them; an orange paw right under the door handle.

Pulling a key from his back pocket, Nicky paid the marked door no mind. After a visible struggle with balancing the pile of fabric while unlocking the door, the rusted lock clicked and Nicky huffed in relief.

“Sneaky bitch,” he muttered under his breath. He took a step back and nodded at Neil. “Okay, go on.”

Commands, Neil understood. Commands, Neil could do. Nicky’s voice was too soft, too hopeful to be a true command, but it turned out to be the closest thing to normal Neil had heard all day.

Neil pushed the door open to reveal a small, dark room. 

Nicky walked in first, dropping his soft pile onto the bare mattress of the bed. He had been carrying sheets, Neil realised. 

“It isn’t much,” Nicky said as he strode to the room’s single window and pushed its faded blue curtains open. “But it will do, right?”

Neil looked around the room. The wood-panelled walls slopped pretty low and the window let in barely any light. It lacked any decoration or furniture other than the bed under the window and a few low installed shelves. It smelled of dust and loneliness. 

“What?”

“Like your bedroom while you’re here,” Nicky said. He turned to face Neil with a frown. “I got you fresh sheets, of course, and some pillows and a blanket. I have more somewhere if you want to, but it might take me a while to find.”

Neil didn’t say a word, so naturally, Nicky continued babbled on.

“The heating works alright, just takes a little longer to punch in. I can give you some clothes too,” Nicky said and shot a meaningful glance towards Neil’s duffle bag. “Suppose you packed lightly.”

“I can sleep downstairs,” Neil said at last.

Nicky threw his hands in the air. “That doesn’t mean you should! I will leave all this with you and if you need anything else, I will be in the kitchen, okay?”

“Okay.”

Nicky handed Neil the key as he passed by, but he stopped in the door. 

“Andrew’s room is the one of your right. If you-,” he said, caught himself. “Never mind. He showed you to the bathroom, right? You should find it easily even if he didn’t.”

Neil nodded. 

Nicky left him to the strange stillness of the room. Back then, Neil couldn’t possibly know that the dark, little room would become his.

-

Kevin Day, when stripped of all his talent and accomplishments and popularity that Neil had only recently learned of, was a single-minded bastard. 

He eyed Neil as much as Andrew did and just as Andrew, he didn’t back down once he’d been caught. Both he and Aaron circled Neil like they waited for a mistake that would excuse their attack; a mistake Neil wouldn’t make. Whatever Kevin’s problem was, other than Andrew’s attention being torn between him and Neil, was a mystery Neil quite frankly didn’t have time for. 

What mattered of Kevin was his skill and his knowledge. Everything he seemed willing to teach Neil for no apparent reason. Neil’s guess would be arrogance.

Part of Kevin’s arrogance, even Neil had to admit, was justified. Nicky had shown Neil all the videos he could find, countless of Kevin’s precise, impossible goals. Neil could watch them on repeat for hours and still be left breathless each time Kevin scored. He had not expected to run into a university star striker in a rundown camp, but stranger things had happened. 

A great example of oddness would be Andrew, resentful of Exy and everything it was, ranking as one of the best goalkeepers in the league. 

_When he wanted to be, at least_ , Nicky had told Neil. The video he had played then had Neil’s blood boiling. 

Andrew had stood in the goal and let the ball fly by him, not bothering to move an inch. He didn’t even waste his energy to look after the ball. This man, who seemed no better than a statue in the goal, had managed to secure a full scholarship for three people two years ago. 

_How_ , Neil had asked. Why would anyone sign Andrew and his family for this childish tantrum?

The second video of Andrew on the court Neil replayed five times. He couldn’t decide which one of the two had pissed him off more. The one showing Andrew’s attitude or the one showing his real ability.

Even now, tuning out Kevin’s shouting, Neil thought about the compilation of Andrew closing the goal, not giving the strikers of the opposite team a single chance. 

But instead of joining Neil and Kevin that day to show off, to practice, Andrew sat on the bench and smoked one cigarette after another. Throwing everything Neil would kill for, a court and a future, away.

“Again!” Kevin shouted. “Watch your feet!”

Running on anger fuelled by Andrew’s ignorance and Kevin’s arrogance, Neil did shoot on the empty goal again and again.

-

Lying came to Neil naturally, the way breathing did. 

Rather than to die an honest man, someone he could never be, he would throw away a man’s useless pride to see another day. Not always it pleased him. Not always it was to hide big secrets, and not always it was to save his life. 

Always, however, it was to protect the little of himself he had left. Neil knew that only a liar could survive the world he had been thrown into. One day, he would probably lie for forgiveness. 

That day, he would probably remember the strange sorrow shadowing Nicky’s face as he stood in Neil’s room and showed Neil yet another act of kindness Neil wouldn’t repay him for. Couldn’t repay him for, even if he wanted to.

“I can lend you some clothes while yours wash and dry,” Nicky said, hand still outstretched towards Neil’s duffle bag but keeping its safe distance.

Nicky was approaching Neil like a wild animal, and if that was wise or stupid, Neil couldn’t decide. If he learned that method with Aaron or Andrew, Neil couldn’t bring himself to ask, but years with the twins had to teach Nicky a thing or two.

“Okay,” Neil said.

“Good! I’ll go find something!”

“Okay.”

Nicky nodded to himself and turned to leave, but not before he shot Neil a half stern look. 

“The clothes you are wearing now as well, Neil.”

With that, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind himself. 

Neil listened to the thudding of his steps down the hall before they grew distant and then locked the door, leaning against it. His skin crawled at the mere idea of being exposed to anyone; not even Neil himself could stand the sight of it. The scarred planes of his chest and arms may as well be a mirror image of his soul, but as long as Neil didn’t see them, he was fine. 

Nicky would talk. He would pity Neil and ask questions, but worst of all, he would know. He would know and his tiptoeing would become too unbearable to stand for as long as the camp was a safe hideout. 

Nicky would tell Andrew, and Andrew would connect the dots of Neil’s hazy story way faster than was inevitable. If Neil had discovered one real thing about Andrew, it was that Andrew was a man of his word. Andrew would keep his promise and his threat, kick Neil out before Neil could endanger his family.

Neil would be a few days older, but he would be right where he began. 

A knock on the door jerked Neil out of his spiralling thoughts, back to the problem at hand. A problem that Nicky solved for Neil without realising.

“Neil? I will leave the clothes here, so get changed and then bring me everything to the kitchen, will you?”

Neil slumped down the door, slid down until he sat on the cold floor.

“I will.”

-

“To be remembered, you must become unforgettable,” Kevin had told Neil.

Whenever Kevin knew of the terrifying meaning behind his rarely given out inspirational words or not, they rang in Neil’s head even long after Kevin had dismissed him. To be remembered would send Neil six feet under.

And yet, the selfish part of Neil ached to become someone. Someone unforgettable, even if only to a single soul. 

Neil banished that thought and set into a jog through the camp’s dense areas of trees running along the fence of the property. There, in the corner, hid an old, wrecked cabin. 

Andrew sat on its roof and smoked, looking as surprised as Neil was to find him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ookkaayy, first of all, Neil is so hard to write because he's a hater and he hates everything I have built in the 70k from Andrew's pov. Just saying.
> 
> Now, here's the deal:
> 
> -A great piece of writing advice that actually stuck with me was 'the first character related line should be their introduction' and so how else to start talking about Neil other than stating he is an Exy bastard  
> -"three outfits that would catch the attention of no one" but Neil's outfits are one of the first things that Andrew notices soooo  
> -we learn the camps official name from Neil because Andrew REFUSES to ever acknowledge it, forever referring to the camp as the camp. Nicky doesn't dare to say the name out loud in front of him  
> -Andrew never noticed Neil stealing anything, but Nicky did. Nicky, my love, didn't say a word because if Neil stole, he needed those things more than the cousins did  
> -Kevin and Aaron are more suspicious of Neil than Andrew realises (or sees, considering he's gone for hours per day). Neil avoids Aaron as much as he can, and of course, the reason he doesn't avoid Kevin as well is Exy  
> -Nicky learnt how to deal with people from Andrew when Kevin became part of their family, right out of Riko's claws. It was around that time that Andrew and Nicky actually bonded
> 
> I can't remember anything else right now, but if you notice a detail you want to know more about, hit me up ! At this point a very little from this chapter could be a spoiler


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fight, Aaron avoids everyone. Andrew and Kevin face issues they would rather avoid as well and their friendship is tested for the first time in a while

The smell of weed filled the hallway.

It crept from under Aaron’s door and stubbornly stuck to the wood panels and the wallpapers, to the blinds and Kevin’s no so welcoming rug. Someone had opened all the windows. It proved to be a vain attempt of freshening the air, as the summer sun turned the first floor of the main building into a sauna instead.

Andrew stopped by Aaron’s room. He prepared his ears for heavy metal or German rap, both equally aggressive in sound, but no poor excuse of a music played behind the locked door. Aaron’s room remained as silent as it was the day before and the day before it.

Never had Andrew wished to hear Aaron’s dreadful noise, anger poured into mismatched beats, this much.

The anniversary of Tilda’s death drained Aaron. He didn’t leave his room. In the rare occasions he did, he moved around like a ghost; gone before anyone had registered him. Aaron’s headphones still accompanied him everywhere, to prevent anyone from talking to him.

Andrew suspected that Aaron didn’t even bother plugging the earbuds into his phone, but Aaron’s face gave away nothing.

It was a twin thing, Nicky had told Andrew the second night of Aaron’s absence.

Neither of them had thought about how noticeable it would be until they found themselves with an empty spot at the table. With an extra chair. A plate they pulled out only to be stocked back in the cabinet after the meal, unused.

Days ago, Andrew swore to be ready for goodbyes. Ready he was not. Standing in front of Aaron’s room, he was nothing but a humbled man. Goodbyes, it seemed, were easier to imagine than to say.

Aaron’s locked door felt like a goodbye with no chance of reunion.

Andrew shoved his clenched fist into his pocket and cursed himself, everything there was to curse. The bruises colouring his face had started to fade, but some wounds would never heal. They would remain torn open always, a constant reminder of what was and could never be. Those bled with each movement.

Down the hall a door creaked open, followed by silent, calculated steps.

Andrew turned on his heel and rushed down the stairs before Neil could witness his pathetic display of emotion.

-

The last two dinners had been cooked by Kevin.

Needless to say, they looked overly green and tasted so healthy that the Blue Sticks started to count their departure down like mad men. Some of them swore to live off Cheetos.

Andrew would join their noble guest if Nicky passed the responsibility of lunches onto Kevin as well. Nicky didn’t care about his figure enough to let Kevin destroy the whole camp menu, however, and so for lunch he made extra cheesy sandwiches. 

As Andrew was shoving a second one down his throat, Nicky slumped into the seat next to him wearing a sour expression. He dropped a thick envelope with Andrew’s name on the table and reached for the third sandwich he knew Andrew wouldn’t eat.

“It came today,” Nicky said.

Hearing the softness in his voice, Andrew didn’t have to search for the black ink of his lawyer’s stamp. He flipped the envelope upside down and stared at the blank side. He still saw the boldly printed lies seeping through the thin beige paper.

“Do you-“

“No.”

Nicky nodded in understanding, but he couldn’t help the curious glances slipping the envelope’s way.

Andrew didn’t blame Nicky. Not even he knew what his final story would be.

-

Foster kids, when it came down to the simple things, tended to be sharper than their peers.

Most of them learnt to narrow their round eyes before the first ring of the school bell, to bare their teeth the second they dropped the practised smile. In too small shoes they would tiptoe the line between cautious and suspicious, hands folded behind back only to hide a knife.

Foster kids knew to listen for the sighs and creaks of the house. Foster kids knew a person’s steps and typical movement, all the little habits that could one day save their neck. A skill as important to master was the secret of signals and codes.

Over the years, Andrew had created hundreds of those. His signals developed into a language he could control and teach the handful he trusted, something to keep him sane.

The first week he had spent with Aaron in the justified disbelief that life could get better, he had created another set of signals. They consisted of hand gestures, easy to pass as casual, and their counterpart of different rhythms if the situation didn’t allow sight.

Aaron had learnt the new language simply because Andrew asked him to. They had sat on the floor of Aaron’s room and practiced for hours, until their eyelids were heavy and their knuckles hurt from the constant knocking. Until Tilda had sobered up and noticed the dull noise bothered her in the kitchen.

Andrew wasn’t about to ask how much Aaron remembered, but Aaron did still know the sound of Andrew’s signature. Nicky, although sceptical at first, turned out to be a natural talent. He picked up on the codes fast, learnt them all in a single day.

The last student Andrew cared about enough to include was Kevin, with his hand still in white plaster and eyes wide, dry from the lack of sleep. Unlike Aaron or Nicky, Kevin didn’t question the need for secret language once, eager to depend on someone who wasn’t himself.

Andrew had taught Kevin and swore to always recognize the signal, no matter in which form, no matter where. It was the least he could give.

-

Kevin knocked on Andrew’s door in the middle of the night, long before it bled into an early morning. His state told stories that Kevin wouldn’t admit out loud, cheeks tearstained and the bottle he was clutching by his side half empty.

Instead of a greeting, Kevin handed Andrew his phone.

The device buzzed with a new message, one of what seemed to be a million.

Most of them were from Shay, desperate by the use of sad emojis, but at the end of the line hid one that promised no good. Andrew tapped on Riko’s cursed name, disgust and something anxious rising up his throat. He had the door wide open before he even finished reading the text.

Kevin didn’t move an inch, his gaze blank where it strayed past Andrew’s shoulder.

“Kevin?” Andrew asked. His voice echoed down the hall and back, but Kevin seemed not to register a thing. “Kevin, what is the code?”

The question sobered Kevin enough for him to focus on Andrew, like he had been snapped out of a nightmare. He lifted his free hand, sluggish as clenched his fist and knocked on the wall in a rhythm Andrew hadn’t heard in two years. Sometimes it meant help or danger.

Always would the unwritten translation be ‘I need you’.

Andrew wiggled the bottle out of Kevin’s tense grip and locked it in the drawer of his bedside table where it wouldn’t tempt Kevin. He shoved the key deep in his pocket and reached for Kevin.

To Andrew’s surprise, Kevin didn’t as much as bat an eye at the loss. He followed Andrew past the threshold without resistance, lingering where Andrew had left him to shut the door. At Andrew’s nudge he sank onto the chair by the window. He made no attempt to get comfortable.

Andrew didn’t force him.

In return for the company, Kevin didn’t ask about the papers covering most of Andrew’s bed, printed out lies and crossed out truths to humour the jury.

-

For hours, they sat in silence, until the light of Andrew’s desk lamp began to flicker, indifferent to Kevin flickering the bulb. Andrew reached to switch the big light on, but the new source of light didn’t end Kevin’s staring contest with the old lamp.

The crumpled paper hitting his cheek did.

Kevin graced Andrew with a weak glare. “You could change the bulb,” he said.

“I could do a lot of things.”

Instead of arguing, Kevin grabbed the crumpled paper of the floor and unfolded it. The skin between Kevin’s brows creased, forming a familiar wrinkle. As he skimmed the mismatched paragraphs of half a story, the blank expression he had arrived with cracked and broke into a scowl.

“What is this?” Kevin asked, the harshness he had saved for the court slipping into his voice. He tore the paper in two, as dramatic as ever. “Are you trying to lose the case? Even you can’t hate exy that bad.”

“What I hate is to repeat myself,” Andrew said. “Some of us don’t breathe for exy.”

Kevin huffed, tossing the remains of Andrew’s testimony into the trash bin. He shot to his feet and clutched the edge of the desk moments later as his sobering up body caught up with the sudden movement. Even clutching his head for dear life, he found enough strength to stare Andrew down.

“What else is there?” Kevin demanded. “What do you breathe for?”

Andrew swept all the papers off his bed. They flew across the room and scattered onto the floor. Andrew’s thoughts blurred together like the small font of the testimony did, unable to produce an answer at least close to coherent.

If Kevin had been prompted by Nicky’s oversharing or the fresh wound of his breakup was anyone’s guess.

Andrew and Kevin didn’t talk; not like that. The line of their friendship, drawn by Andrew, now seemed clearer and thicker than ever.

“There has to be something,” Kevin went on. “You can’t walk in there prepared to lose without a fight.”

The words slipped past Kevin’s lips but all Andrew heard was Neil, the exact same words to push Andrew in the exact same direction. The irony didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I won’t.”

Kevin collapsed back onto the chair, eyes closed and lips pressed together like he was biting down more arguments.

“Tell me what really happened,” he ended up saying. “Everything.”

And so Andrew did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So sorry to ghost you for a month and then come back with barely 1.7k!
> 
> Things have been .. rough when it came to writing. I couldn't get this little chapter done no matter what - I have good fives scenes that I wrote and then took out. I realised I was writing something that needs to happen only after this, and well .. I got stuck.
> 
> Good news is: now that this chapter is out of the way, I can get to the things that I want to write and have already drafted. Hopefully, the next update will be soon, but as always, I cannot promise anything
> 
> Thank you all for sticking by!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Foxes arrive at the camp, Aaron shows no progress and Andrew finds the ground under his feet shaky as he distances himself from everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: drug usage, symptoms of depression (written a bit more in detail than usual)

The road from the camp was a lonely one, frozen in time like it was born for a silver screen. The trees surrounding it bent so far down over it that their branches tangled together, a miles-long gate that Andrew would recognize anytime.

In the middle of the summer, the fields bloomed white and bright yellow, too cheerful for Andrew to enjoy, too beautiful for him to hate.

Neil had been watching Andrew drive to the supermarket for an hour then, quiet for the most part. Remarks he couldn’t swallow down broke his silence in long intervals, but they weren’t for Andrew to reply to. They were comments about a weirdly shaped tree or an exy fact learnt from Kevin, white noise to remind Andrew of Neil’s steady presence.

As if Andrew could forget; as if he couldn’t feel the icy gaze on his profile and the tension that had been following them for days.

Why Neil had insisted to tag along on the trip to the town, Andrew didn’t know. The last time they had talked, Andrew had ripped his chest open for Neil to see. The wound still bled as he sped the truck up down the empty road.

“Sometimes you drive like you want to crash,” Neil said.

Neil was no storyteller of his own misfortunes. He did, however, have an eye and a taste for them, hungry to know what others did not and not shy to ask what they avoided. He continued to surprise Andrew even in his predictability; he stated everyone had been too afraid to imply with confidence.

“You talk like you want to be killed,” Andrew said. “All the time.”

Neil tapped his bare knee, sunburnt still and again, with a scarred finger. After countless hours spent outside, Neil had learned to slap a good amount of sunscreen on his face, but never on his legs. His knees, usually exposed by the terrible overall, suffered the most.

In the early morning hours, alive purely on too much coffee and sugar, Andrew had wondered if his constantly cold hands could soothe the sunburn. He had texted Bee about this bizarre thoughts and deleted her reply before he could read it.

Later, he would blame the nonsense on a bad day. A whole life of them.

“What is stopping you?” Neil asked, so quietly that his words may as well be the hum of the engine.

“From killing you? I don’t feel like going to jail sooner than I have to.”

“Andrew.”

Andrew dug his nails into the leather of the steering wheel, counted to ten and back.

“My therapist would tell you that is not something you ask a person with a medical record like mine,” he said, daring to sneak a quick look Neil’s way. “Apparently, they could take it the wrong way.”

Neil huffed, tore a stray thread off his overall and tossed it in Andrew’s direction. It didn’t make it past the passenger seat as far as Andrew could tell.

“Your therapist would have me locked up first and scolded me about being appropriate second,” Neil said. “It would be in vain though, because the only person I plan on asking is you.”

Andrew’s therapist already knew of Neil, sort of, and would be pleased to meet him in fall.

Bee wouldn’t tell Andrew that Neil was a good guy, because that would be a lie. Neil could be selfish and dishonest, everything people like them grew up to be under a harsh hand. She would tell Andrew she was happy for him. Happy for the little progress, for a name that Andrew wanted to remember.

Happy for nothing.

Andrew lifted his foot off the gas pedal nevertheless.

“Does that make me special?” he asked over the engine.

“Andrew.”

“Neil.”

This time, Neil didn’t settle for throwing things. He shifted in his seat to face Andrew and nudged Andrew’s thigh with the tip of his old, dirty sneaker. Andrew ignored him, the way he let Neil get away with most of his rudeness.

Ten was a number too low for spending time in Neil’s company. Twenty proved to be a slightly better goal, but it still bought Andrew only mere seconds before Neil went on.

“You know what I ask,” Neil said.

“Let’s say I do. Then my question is not what, but why.”

“I want to know.”

Want was a word that Neil grew to use more freely with each passing day. At first, it was food and then a movie to watch with Nicky. Then it was to know Andrew, and Andrew couldn’t forget that particular change in Neil’s attitude.

Even if his memory allowed Andrew such luxury, Neil’s bare existence wouldn’t let him. After all, Neil was the first one to ask what Andrew wanted instead of assuming.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you before your big exy debut,” Andrew said.

Neil sighed, an overdramatic reaction he had picked up from both Nicky and Kevin, but Andrew heard the small smile of his in his words. The tiny spark of excitement that Neil couldn’t deny himself.

“And they say you don’t care.”

“I don’t.”

“I know you do,” Neil said. “You always slow down when you remember that I’m in the car.”

Andrew bit his tongue, drew in a shaky breath like he had been sucker-punched. His hands were pins and needles on the steering wheel, Neil’s foot heavy where it still poked his leg. Exposed, his brain chanted. Liar and murderer and creep and just like them.

Not allowed to have any of this.

“Post-traumatic stress,” Andrew said in hope of dismissing Neil and his prodding questions.

“Would your therapist agree?”

“She would agree your death was unfortunate,” Andrew said. The threat got lost in the unfamiliar, unexpected softness of his voice.

Neil didn’t seem to catch it. He would ask Andrew again, sooner or later, but for now, he dropped the conversation for the sake of the empty road ahead of them.

-

Nothing, Andrew could tell Neil.

There was nothing stopping him when he was sixteen, nothing but bad timing. At twenty-one, Andrew would blame it on fear and pride.

Nothing, Andrew wanted to say because the answer was everything.

It was Nicky; his hot chocolate and night talks and stupidly long screenshots of his ideas for new tv shows. It was Andrew’s dark room and the mirrors hung high, an extra key to the gym. It was Nicky, who had lost all of his old life for Andrew to live how a foster kid could never hope to.

It was Aaron; their shared blood and their secret codes. It was Aaron, who despite his animosity couldn’t bear to lose another person, because he was yet to pick himself up. It was Aaron for whom Andrew had picked up the racquet two years ago, to give him the second chance he had deserved.

It was Kevin; his friendship and unwavering trust. It was hours of easy silence and hundreds of meaningless texts. It was the selfless side of Kevin that very few chose to see. It was Kevin who had offered Andrew something to live for, a stranger to a stranger.

It was his family whom Andrew remembered each time he sat in the truck, alone and miserable, and craved an easy way out.

It was Neil as well, eager to gain a few extra years to waste on a bastard sport.

Andrew couldn’t possibly tell Neil the truth.

-

Andrew parked the truck right in front of the supermarket and ignored anyone who dared to turn after the cheerful red of the truck’s door.

Neil, like glued to Andrew’s side, stared those few down. He expected no gratitude for his childish behaviour and none he would get.

-

“Can I turn on the radio?” Neil asked on their way back.

Andrew nodded, no better company than the radio station that repeated the same fifty songs over and over.

Neil fiddled with the truck’s old radio until a strange mix of country and rap filled the car, but Neil didn’t seem to mind the monstrosity. He didn’t seem to have much of a taste at all, grinning from ear to ear.

He rolled his window down and stuck his head out, another maniac in Andrew’s life. The wind tore his laughter from his lips and carried it through the fields around them, burying it into the ground for something lovely to blossom the following spring.

A little too reckless for someone so keen on surviving, Neil seized the opportunity of the empty road. He unbuckled his seatbelt and knelt on his seat, leaning out of the window further.

If Neil trusted Andrew that much or was willing to take the risk for the flickering moment of freedom, Andrew didn’t dare to guess.

The answer would bruise him either way. His hands shook where they gripped the steering wheel, freezing as if water could come rushing down the hill ahead of them any time. Itching where his fingers touched Neil’s scarred cheek a week ago.

“Didn’t Kevin tell you to come back as a whole?”

Neil settled back in his seat but left his window wide open, his hair sticking up at angles so odd that Andrew noticed them even out of the corner of his eye.

“Not exactly,” he said without a care. “It might have been implied when he said he expected me for the team practice.”

By the late afternoon, the camp would be stained by the presence of the Palmetto State University Foxes in a full count.

The Foxes had not yet been informed of a new striker joining their lines, for some reason or other. Andrew tuned Kevin’s voice out the second Kevin mentioned the damned group, but Neil’s name had not escaped his attention. He suspected the reason was a young Japanese man who knew too much about the camp’s visitors already.

Neil was no more excited to meet his teammates than Andrew, but he flew high on the cloud nine to finally play. He didn’t expect much of the mismatched team, not before Kevin’s lecture and definitely not after seeing their stats.

He only wanted to play, he had said.

Out of everything Neil had ever said, this one statement Andrew believed to be true.

-

Andrew and Aaron didn’t agree on many things, but neither of them enjoyed watching the Foxes storm onto the camp’s grounds.

Aaron had dragged himself out of his room dressed in sports clothes and sober, but he didn’t spare any of them a glance. At Wilds’ text informing them of the group’s arrival, he followed Andrew outside like a shadow more than a person. They stopped by the main gate and neither of them bothered to offer help to the Foxes with unloading their cars.

The upperclassmen had brought enough common sense with them to greet the twins briefly before Nicky ushered them to the main building, the same compliment didn’t go for the two first years. Wide-eyed they stared, just lanky kids who knew Andrew and Aaron only from the newspapers and capitalized titles.

From where he and Aaron stood by the path, Andrew smiled at them in a way he knew to look anything but pretty, all teeth and no emotion.

The newbies lowered their gazes, rushed after the trusty captain.

Andrew would swear that the corner of Aaron’s mouth twitched in mild amusement on his pale face, but it probably was the trick of the light. A present from Andrew’s wistful imagination.

For the first time in days, Aaron turned to look at Andrew. Although the smell of alcohol lingered on his breath, his eyes were clear as they bore into Andrew’s.

Andrew expected to feel Aaron’s knuckles against his nose, anticipated them almost.

But Aaron looked too empty to find a will to fight within himself. He looked too empty to be still alive, so much that Andrew wanted to reach out and grab his sleeve, just to make sure. Another bruise would be a small price to pay.

“Don’t kill them,” Aaron said, voice raspy after days of silence.

“Why would you care?”

Above them, dark clouds began to overtake the bright blue sky. Wilds emerged from the main building and stalked past them to the parking lot, mumbling something about her idiot boyfriend and his goldfish memory.

Neither of them acknowledged her.

“Because it would make me a witness again,” Aaron said. He turned on his heel and headed down the path to the court, leaving Andrew behind.

Andrew stood stuck in place even as the first raindrops began to fall onto his shoulders and Wilds emerged a few feet away, dragging a beat-up suitcase with her. She looked Andrew up and down twice before she decided to stop at a safe distance.

“Good to see you,” she said, her voice not giving away how ingenuine her words were. Her scowl did that just fine.

“Is it really?” Andrew asked.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, gazed up at the sky before she faced Andrew again. “It could be,” she said.

-

Neil tailed after Kevin like a stray dog would follow the person that had thrown him a chunk of meat. Nervous energy radiated off him in waves, clear in his jerky movements when he tugged his gear on. If he waited for words of encouragement before the Foxes would sink their teeth into him, Kevin had none to offer.

It was one of the things that Andrew liked about Kevin – his blunt uninterest in meaningless interactions. Andrew had told Kevin as much once, when they had drunk together on the floor of their dorm room while the rest of the world talked about them. Kevin had laughed, head titled back and the smooth skin of his neck exposed, and Andrew –

Andrew had been confused then.

Nothing was confusing about Kevin now. He was safe to look at, to appreciate as he was without the guilt that came with attraction. He was safe to talk to and safe to share a room with, and that was all that mattered in their friendship.

And yet, Andrew pretended not to catch Kevin gesturing him to come over. He toyed with his shoelaces until Kevin called all the Foxes over to welcome them as much as to scold them.

The Foxes accepted Neil as their own with same amounts of excitement and suspicion, but Kevin paid their reactions no mind. He didn’t care if they liked or hated Neil, as long as they passed him the ball like he wanted them to. He rushed them onto the court despite the bad weather and went on with his new tactics while the Foxes examined Neil and his scarred face.

And although Neil shot Andrew the familiar look of desperation, Andrew stalked to the goal without claiming Neil as one of his own.

-

Andrew’s cabin wasn’t usually locked, but that night, Andrew had brought the key to it with him.

It hung on his key ring among the others, right next to the terrible exy keychain. He shoved the key into the lock and pushed the cabin’s door wide open, trying not to cringe at the spiderwebs covering the otherwise blank walls.

The cabin lacked electricity, but Andrew had long gotten used to the darkness. It wasn’t the darkness of the soon to come night that would hurt him – it was those who sneaked underneath its cape. The difference wasn’t always clear to Andrew, but the knowledge came with the years spent in the foster system.

Now Andrew still held his breath at the sight of a shadow that wasn’t his own, sometimes, but he could sleep with his eyes closed. Most of the nights he could, anyway.

The cabin couldn’t be called safe in any technical way with its broken windows and broken door, but it offered Andrew the illusion of safety when he needed it. The cabin sheltered him when everything else fell apart and the air became too heavy for Andrew’s ash-filled lungs. It allowed him an escape when things got too loud and chaotic for him to control, out of reach.

Andrew sat on the filthy floor and fished out his first cigarette of the day, long over-due. He had been avoiding smoking, only to avoid a certain boy who would steal his cigarette to let it burn down to the filter without taking a drag.

He had been avoiding Kevin and his unsure gaze, supportive in a way that was confusing for both of them. He had been avoiding Nicky and his quiet questions about the envelope of lies. He had been avoiding owning to his own promises.

Back in autumn, a broken man shattered once more, Andrew thought of using up the rest of his free days well. In the middle of July, Andrew stood shaking hands with regret, the one emotion he swore to remain unfamiliar with.

Unfamiliar it was not. It stole his sleep and shoved words back down his throat.

Andrew didn’t get to light his cigarette before a familiar set of footsteps thudded outside, loud only for his sake, and climbed the three stairs to the cabin.

Neil stopped by the door, didn’t come inside. Andrew could barely see his outline, and that was for the best.

“Hey,” Neil said. “Just wanted to check on you.”

Andrew dug in his pocket for his lighter, cursed himself for not driving off. He held the lighter in front of his face and watched the fire flicker to life before he lifted his gaze to meet Neil’s.

“Do I look like someone who needs to be checked on?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“I want you to shut up.”

Neil leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his chest. He wore a hoodie that Andrew didn’t recognize, almost as huge as Neil’s own. His hair stuck to his forehead, rain running down his cheeks, and he looked as lovely as ever.

Andrew hated him then.

“But do you want me to leave?”

Andrew finally lit his cigarette, but didn’t kill the fire just yet. The yellow light danced on Neil’s face, cut his nose sharper than Andrew knew it to be.

“Do as you wish.”

Neil nodded and slipped inside the cabin. He settled in the corner to Andrew’s right, at the same safe distance that everyone put between themselves and Andrew. Neil did so not for his own protection, but for Andrew’s comfort. As selfish as he was, he could be considerate of Andrew like that.

It was a maddening thing to be aware of.

Neil was maddening to be aware of, always there and yet always out of reach. Some nights, Andrew wished to change his stay into go, to be selfish just for once.

He smoked his cigarette and then another and another.

Neil didn’t make a move for any of them, content to sit in the darkness of the cabin and listen to the rain beating against the roof. When Andrew followed his gaze, he found it on the keys hanging from the lock. On the exy keychain that Andrew had foolishly kept.

“Just ask,” Andrew bit out. He tossed his cigarette outside and resisted the urge to pull out the fourth one. “Get this over with.”

Neil shifted in the darkness until he found a flashlight in his pocket, clicking it on and tossing it onto the floor between them.

“Will you kiss me?” Neil asked instead of questioning the keychain.

Andrew stared at him. Neil’s face was clear of any hint of uncertainty or a shadow of a doubt. And yet, Andrew was not allowed to have this.

“I told you-“

“To ask again when I’m sure,” Neil cut in. “I am sure.”

Andrew pulled the fourth cigarette out after all. He lit it with trembling fingers, struggling with a movement that was his second nature. He hated Neil.

“A week has been enough for you to solve your sexuality crisis? If only the rest of us got it together that fast.”

Neil scowled. He reached for the flashlight and pointed it at Andrew’s face, but Andrew refused to as much as squint at the harsh light.

“It was enough time to figure out that I want you to,” Neil said. “Whatever it means.”

“But you don’t swing,” Andrew reminded him cheerfully.

“Because I’ve never been allowed to.”

Andrew tossed his still burning cigarette outside and moved as close to Neil as he dared, their knees pressed together and the flashlight pushed out of the way. His hand flew to Neil’s cheek and stopped a breath short of it.

“I need you to be sure,” Andrew said, repeated himself for what felt like the millionth time.

Neil leaned into Andrew’s palm, his skin burning under Andrew’s icy fingers. He placed his hand over Andrew’s, an encouragement Andrew would deny needing if he was ever asked.

“I am,” Neil said. “Kiss me if you want to.”

Andrew kissed him.

Not the way he had been kissed before nor the way he had kissed others.

He kissed Neil the way he knew Neil to be; rough around the edges but steady. He kissed Neil the way he believed Neil deserved to be kissed, even if only this once.

Andrew kissed Neil the way he wanted to be kissed himself.

For that, Neil gave back as much as he received. Clumsy but eager, he kissed Andrew back. Squeezing Andrew’s hand, he guided it to his chest, right against his frantic heartbeat, and as he hummed into Andrew’s mouth, Andrew was a damned man standing at the edge of heaven.

A buzzing of a phone startled Andrew back into reality.

He jerked back, away from Neil and his flushed cheeks, and sucked in a deep breath in hopes of filling his too light lungs. It took him entirely too long to realise the phone disturbing them was his own, vibrating in his pocket.

Andrew dug it out and blinked at the bright display twice before he recognized Nicky’s name.

“Yes?” he asked, voice shaky even to his ears.

“Aaron,” Nicky blurted out. “He stalked off to the parking lot, high as a kite.”

“I’ll get him.”

With that, Andrew hung up and shoved his phone back. He offered Neil no explanation as he gathered himself enough to get to his feet, but he allowed himself one glance back.

It was another mistake on a way too long list.

Neil sat still where Andrew had left him, one hand clutching his hoodie where Andrew’s hand had been, and the other pressed against his lips, eyes wide with something Andrew feared to be regret.

He stepped out into the rain before he could watch the yes turn into the no it should have been from the beginning.

-

Aaron watched Andrew approach but didn’t move an inch in his new cold seat, t-shirt soaked through and face vacant.

Andrew sank onto the muddy ground beside Aaron, leaning back against the truck and its bright red reminders. The smell of weed hit him with a rush of nausea he fought down until it was only an ache in his gut, his chest and his head. He pulled out his fifth cigarette of the night and crushed it under his boot as soon as he lit it.

Aaron watched him without a word for long minutes, as confused as Andrew was. As empty as Andrew felt, a mirror image neither of them could escape.

Andrew expected to feel Aaron’s knuckles against his nose, anticipated them honestly.

Instead, Aaron offered Andrew his smouldering joint.

Andrew accepted it.

-

Nicky and Kevin found them later, high of their minds and yet so low.

As far as Andrew remembered, Nicky hadn't looked disappointed or angry.

He had looked empty, just like the rest of them.

Andrew tended to overlook that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets worse before it gets better, right? Right?
> 
> Although this chapter isn’t one of my favourite a, I am egoistic enough to say it:  
> It still gave birth to many iconic lines I'm gonna steal for my novel, so if you saw them, no you didn't (or maybe you did)
> 
> Anygay, come scream with me, this was a wild ride as I like to say! I have written so many kissing scenes and yet I don't like most of them, but hopefully, this one was worth the wait of 76k


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew faces the consequences of his actions, Nicky finds hope where he hadn't expected it, and under the pressure, Neil loses his cool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Drinking game time: drink each time you spot the words 'smile', 'face', and if you want to black out, 'but'.  
> You can't call me out if I call myself out first lol

“Do you see her often?” Aaron had asked.

His fair, short hair had stuck to his forehead as he had gazed at Andrew, his eyelashes catching one raindrop after another. The old t-shirt he had worn, soaked through, had clung to his frame tightly enough to reveal where he and Andrew differed. Aaron had lacked at least twenty pounds of muscle to reflect Andrew in the mirror. He had not been this thin the last time the coach had forced them to step on the digital scale in his office.

Andrew should had noticed. He hadn’t, and that mistake overshadowed any excuse he would come up with had he not welcomed another drug into his system.

Slowly, as the days began to shorten once more, Aaron began to wither away. Andrew should had noticed, should had acted a long time ago, and yet –

Andrew had tilted his head up to the crying sky, taking in the darkness interrupted only the weak moonlight breaking through the field of clouds.

“Every night,” he had said. “Every time it rains. Every time I drive.”

Aaron had mummed and for once, the sound had not come out of his mouth as a direct mockery or disgust. He had run his finger through the mud they had been sitting in, eyes drifting off Andrew’s face to follow the movement.

“I don’t remember her face anymore,” Aaron had said. He had lifted his dirty finger and had dug it into his right cheek. “I think she had a mole.”

Andrew had sucked in a sharp breath, had closed his eyes for a second. He hadn’t had to search for the face of Tilda; it had come to him immediately, appearing in all its aged, wrinkled and wrecked glory.

She had once been a beautiful woman, Andrew had believed. The traces of lost beauty had persisted in the shape of her mouth, in the hazel of her eyes. She had once been a beautiful woman, long before the vodka and drugs and the pregnancy had ruined her inside and out. Long before Andrew had met her.

“Did she?” Aaron had asked.

“Yes,” Andrew had breathed out. Forcing his eyes open again, he had reached out and pressed his finger against Aaron’s left cheek, close to the corner of his mouth. It had been hollowed under his touch. “She had a mole here.”

Aaron had nodded. With a strange kind of awe lurking in his bloodshot eyes, he had replaced Andrew’s finger with his own. A tired smile had stretched his lips, more real than anything he had ever given Andrew.

“Thanks,” Aaron had said, pupils so wide that the sincerity of the word couldn’t had been faked.

The sky had cried for and instead of Andrew that night.

-

The following morning, the world blurred around the edges. The smile remained real, however, forever kept in the safe of Andrew’s memory.

Then the rest of the snippets of the other night started flowing in, and Andrew sat on his bed for an hour before he trusted his body to move without collapsing. Before he trusted himself not to crumble under the ice of Neil’s eyes.

-

Renee’s smile was a default feature of her face. It stayed in place like it had been glued onto her thin lips, and its absence tended to alarm those used to its steady presence. While Renee preferred it to give away no emotion, Andrew knew it well enough to recognize the hint of curiosity in her smile once she noticed him appear in the dining room.

The world swayed with him by the time he made it to the table by the window, tucked away from the rest of the early campers filling the room.

Empty-handed, Andrew sagged into the seat across Renee and offered her what he hoped to be a blank face instead of greetings. Cold sweat pooled on his skin, behind his knees and under his armbands, on his neck where his hair had grown too long.

Renee nodded at him in return, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. She seemed unaffected by the heat of the room as she slid her food day towards him.

She had saved him a chocolate muffin.

“Hello, Andrew,” Renee said, voice dripping honey. It rang in Andrew’s ears, echoed in his skull a few times. “Who are you avoiding this fine day?”

Andrew’s eyes flickered to the window before he caught himself. He wished for the last night’s rain and chill to continue, to soothe his burning skin.

“I believed you would enjoy my company.”

The words clawed their way up Andrew’s sore throat with difficulty he hadn’t anticipated, couldn’t blame on anyone but himself. He resisted the urge to cough by stuffing the whole muffin in his mouth and swallowed through the pain before he could think better of it.

“I do, but that doesn’t change the fact you are avoiding someone by accompanying me,” Renee said.

Andrew huffed at the accusation, but he couldn’t think of a remark smart enough to shoot back at her. His hands shook as he lifted them to his temples in a vain attempt at banishing the headache clouding his thoughts. For once, they weren’t freezing cold and he wished they were.

Renee observed him, always subtle in her movements but never in her worry. Her smile wavered and Andrew hated himself a little more than when he had woken up.

He stared at his traitorous fingers and their tremble did not cease. It wouldn’t for a while, he knew; an infuriating reminder of his bad decisions. Clenching his fists, he used them to prop his heavy head up as he turned his attention back to Renee.

“What are you avoiding, Andrew?” Renee asked, her voice remaining soft but gaining an edge stern enough to warn him off lying. Concerned beyond the topic of their conversation.

Aaron had not yet abandoned the safety of his room, and that left Andrew avoiding the entire world, everyone and one person in particular.

“Your new teammate,” he said at last, unable to push Neil’s name past his teeth. Not after he had tasted Neil and regret in the same kiss. “Have you met him already?”

Renee scanned the room until she found Neil at the table with Nicky and Kevin. Andrew didn’t follow her gaze. He didn’t think he could move his head without cracking his skull open anyway.

“Briefly. He was,” Renee said and stopped to find the right words. She turned back to Andrew, her expression solemn. “Wary of me. Is he –?”

Any other day, Andrew would enjoy the phrasing Renee might choose. One of us, she could say. Troubled, she could say, her favourite term for people who would never quite fit in. That morning, however, Andrew didn’t wish to hear any of them.

“Yes.”

Renee nodded, reached out to hold onto the small silver cross hanging around her neck.

She was born no saint and grew up a sinner, but the cross served as a constant reminder of her rebirth. Andrew didn’t understand or wholly support her newly chosen path, but it made her look like a person Andrew couldn’t touch without burning. Were it not for the occasional sparring sessions, the rare moments when Renee allowed her past to bleed into her present, Andrew would deem her holy.

Were it not for the darkness of her eyes as she opened her mouth, Andrew would forget she was as human as he was.

“Is he on your side of the team or mine?” Renee asked.

Andrew didn’t bother to look at the calendar at the other side of the room, one page away from the black dot of doom. He squinted at Renee, but her face blurred into a strange palette of colours.

“What does it matter? They are all going to be yours in the fall.”

His eyelids dropped closed and he failed to summon enough strength to open them again. Instead of wasting energy on an impossible task, he opted to listen to the white noise of the dining room and Renee’s even breathing.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Don’t lose faith just yet.”

Across him, a chair creaked against the wooden floor as Renee pushed it from the table. Andrew counted her steps until he felt her standing by his side.

“You cannot lose what you never had,” Andrew said, and the words tasted like a lie in his scratched raw throat.

“Let’s get you to bed. We can talk later.”

Andrew nodded. His elbows gave up under the weight of his head, sliding sideways until his cheek landed in Renee’s soft palm. He allowed her to haul him up to his feet and draped an arm around her slender shoulders as she led them through the maze of tables.

He recognized Nicky’s voice asking something in the passing but he couldn’t make out any real words, not even when Renee whispered something right into his ear. All he could focus on was the sensation of a pair of icy eyes following him out of the room.

-

The sun sat high on the sky when Andrew woke up. His t-shirt stuck to his skin while his blanket lay abandoned on the floor along with his socks.

Shrugging the damp t-shirt and armbands off, Andrew tossed them onto the floor as well. After a failed attempt at sitting up, he accepted the loss and the lingering headache that accompanied it.

He closed his eyes, realised his mistake too late.

Andrew prided himself in his skill of ignorance.

The haze of memories flashing behind his eyelids with each prolonged blink proved to be impossible to ignore. Again and again, his mind projected the image of Neil’s face falling. Andrew’s stomach dropped with it, guilt and regret and everything he swore to never experience filling his lungs. Again and again, he had to watch Aaron bare his teeth in a crooked smile, eyes vacant as he clutched a body that wasn’t really there.

Sometimes, people preferred to be miserable because misery was the easiest state of mind to accept, Bee had once told him.

Andrew didn’t think he preferred to be miserable. He just didn’t know how to exist in any other way.

He titled his head back and banged it against the wall, once, twice. The laughter threatening to tear his chest apart was an ugly thing, bitter and hostile even to his own ears.

-

Nicky leaned back against Andrew’s closed door, staring out of the window as Andrew sat up in his bed, slipped the still damp armbands up to his elbows. The setting sun painted his tan skin orange. It concealed the shadows of worry in his face, but the concern lingered in his body, visible in the tense set of his shoulders.

His expression was as empty as it had been the other night.

“Have you come to be a judge of mine?” Andrew asked, patting the blades safely tucked the thin layer of fabric resting on his skin.

Nicky sighed. He reached into his back pocket and tossed a small, thin box Andrew’s way, not yet daring to let his eyes dart to the side.

Andrew caught the painkillers and popped one out, willing himself to swallow it dry. His throat felt like it had been lined with pins and needles, piercing his flesh.

“I came to check on you; maybe ask what to bring you for lunch and dinner, but I guess I can do that too.”

Andrew stretched his arms in front of him. His head still weighted too much for his neck to carry, but he would manage to hold it up for a few hours once the painkiller kicked in. For as long as it took to stuff himself and smoke half of a pack, at least.

“Aaron?” he asked.

Nicky gazed over at him, eyebrows furrowed as he mulled over the answer he was supposed to give. Andrew saw it sitting at the tip of his tongue, and yet Nicky hesitated. He opened his mouth and closed it again, pulled his bottom lip between his teeth instead.

Andrew reached the number ten faster than usually would. He counted in German, a language offering the number untainted by Neil’s terrible pronunciation.

“Nicky,” he said through clenched teeth. He didn’t recall the last time he had spoken Nicky’s name as anything but a salutation.

The cold warning took Nicky by surprise as well; he reacted too late to cover the shock on his face up.

“He asked about you,” Nicky admitted at last. Wonder seeped into his voice. It softened his eyes, awoke the spark of life Andrew didn’t notice missing in them until it had returned. “He asked if you were okay, and I don’t think he meant the cold. I think – “

“I don’t have a cold,” Andrew cut in before the foolish, false hope slipped past Nicky’s lips.

Nicky’s expression fell as if he had been sucker-punched.

“Right.”

“Nicky.”

“I just-“ Nicky sighed, threw his hands up in the air when he failed to find the right words. “I should be mad at you; hell, I should be furious, because you are both stupid in your own, stupid ways, but-”

Andrew scowled, tugged at the edge of his left armband. Had Nicky seen Aaron’s smile, he wouldn’t be even considering the possibility of anger. He would be sitting by Andrew’s legs, crying his eyes out only because he knew Andrew wouldn’t tell on him.

For once, it would be tears of happiness.

For once, Andrew’s heart wouldn’t shatter at the sight of the first tear on Nicky’s cheek, maybe.

“But?”

Nicky pushed off the door and spun around, hysteria tearing high-pitched laughter out of him. During his fifth spin, he tripped over his own feet and just barely caught himself. Bracing himself against the wall again, he tilted his head back and rubbed a hand over his face.

“But he asked about you,” he said. “He looked me in the eye and asked me, ‘Is Andrew okay’. Because you got high with him. That’s not something to get happy about.”

“It is not,” Andrew agreed, because he wanted to believe Bee would. “It means nothing.”

Nicky nodded, pressed his fists against his eyes, nodded again.

“Right,” he said, smiling despite the way his voice began to shake. “He’s okay. Do you have any special wishes for dinner?”

Andrew pulled out a small blade, held it in his palm and closed his fingers around it until he felt it pressing against his skin. He held it for what was only moments but felt like ages, then released his grip and slipped the blade back into his armband.

“I’m getting up now.”

Nicky didn’t try to argue.

-

Andrew lit his cigarette a few feet away from the main building’s entrance.

The sleeves of the hoodie Nicky had forced him to wear slipped past his wrists, all the way to the first knuckle of his fingers. Andrew had given up on pushing it up before he even set his foot outside, but now the sight of his own fingers reminded him of Neil.

The loose fit reminded him how much could be hidden under a piece of fabric, scars and weight loss and all the warning signs.

The taste of ash didn’t surprise Andrew, not after days and perhaps weeks of it, but it still left him bitter to the bone. If Andrew had anything other than cigarettes and knives to his character, he would burn the pack and not buy another one.

The bars would make smoking difficult anyway.

Andrew heard Renee approach before he saw her, and he willed the disappointment to die in his gut before it could reach his face for Renee to notice. He flicked his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his boot, missing nothing but the routine of it.

“Hello, Andrew,” Renee said as she came to a stop by his side. “Are you feeling better?”

Andrew didn’t think better was a word he would choose to describe either his state or mood, but he did stand on his own feet without the ground shaking underneath him. He nodded.

“I am glad. We were worried.”

It was a trap as old as the humankind, and so Andrew didn’t ask who ‘we’ involved. Her and Nicky, probably. Her, Nicky and Aaron, in another universe.

“Just needed a nap,” Andrew said.

“A nap that takes the whole day?”

“Yes.”

Renee raised her hand to her face to cover the smile that the darkness would conceal anyway, and even after two years of friendship, Andrew found that gesture charming in a way he couldn’t explain.

-

“Kevin says you are joining the afternoon practice,” Neil said as he slammed his food tray on the table, spilling his black coffee all over his overly green plate.

Andrew didn’t bother to look up from his phone. The comix Renee had sent him kept him busy for most of the morning and the lunchtime. The story had its faults, a few minor plot holes and too many side characters for his taste, but the art style overshadowed any of those shortcomings.

It entertained Andrew enough for him to ignore Neil until Neil decided not to be ignored anymore.

“Yes.”

Neil scoffed, flopped into his seat with a loud thud. “You can’t.”

Andrew waited for the heat of Neil’s gaze to leave his face and when it didn’t, he put his phone down after all. Neil looked furious for no good reason, and Andrew’s lack of reaction to his anger seemed to only fuel it.

“I can,” Andrew said. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted ever since you have stepped on the court?”

“I want-“ Neil began to stay, but as his thoughts caught up with his mouth, he trailed off.

Under Andrew’s bored stare, he frowned, stabbed his now uneatable salad with his fork. He reached out towards Andrew’s plate, for the leftover tomato Andrew wouldn’t touch, and thought better of it before his fingers could burst Andrew’s bubble of personal space. In a blink of an eye, he retreated, pushed his food tray aside.

“Yes, Neil? Are you going to tell me you know what you want again?” Andrew asked him. “We both know you don’t.”

Neil’s frown hardened into a hostile grimace, nostalgic in a twisted kind of way.

“Do as you please,” he said. “I won’t go easy on you if you step into the goal.”

With that, Neil shot to his feet and strode out of the room. Andrew watched him go and convinced himself the strange urge to follow was an aftermath of the fever.

-

It had to be the fever and the residue of the drug in his system, because anything else would be lethal.

-

“Get out of my court,” Kevin spit out, his face darkening to a rather lovely shade of red with rage.

The foxes stopped dead in their tracks at the echo of his cold words, some of them mid movement as if Kevin’s voice had the power to freeze them. One of the freshmen happened to stand unfortunately close to him. The step the kid took backwards had amusement creeping onto Andrew’s face.

For once, Andrew didn’t attempt to hide it. Leaning his shoulder against the metal bar of the goal, he pulled his gloves off. He hadn’t been wearing himself out during the first twenty minutes of the practice, but his not fully healed body appreciated the support.

Neil didn’t seem particularly bothered by the order, nor alarmed by the hostility in Kevin’s voice. He ripped his helmed off in one smooth tug and held it by his side as he stared Kevin down, posture straight the way Andrew wouldn’t expect from an abused kid facing anger. Neil never failed to surprise. His profile didn’t tell Andrew much across the few feet between them, but Andrew could imagine the ice in his already cold eyes vividly enough.

Nicky emerged at Andrew’s side, a little out of breath and a lot worried, his fingers tangling in Andrew’s sleeve.

“Stop them before it’s too late,” he hissed.

Andrew shook him off with the intention of watching the scene unfold first. Kevin’s restraint had been getting better these days, and Andrew didn’t wish to interfere unless Kevin lost control of himself.

Nicky clicked his tongue in disapproval but didn’t repeat his demand.

“As far as I’m concerned, which is really not much, given you are acting like a total dick,” Neil said. “The court is Nicky’s, not yours. It’s amazing how extensive your arrogance can be.”

Nicky gasped.

Andrew moved at the same time Kevin did. They reached Neil seconds apart. The fleeting moment, however, had been enough for Kevin’s fingers to snake around Neil’s throat. Riko had taught him that reflex well.

By the time Kevin’s mind could catch up with his body, Andrew had wrapped his own hand around Kevin’s wrist. His grip was not yet strong enough to hurt; it was just firm enough to remind Kevin of the consequences if he dared to squeeze Neil’s windpipe any harder.

Kevin cursed in French, called Neil god knew what. Andrew expected the conflict to end there, but the fire Andrew had awoken in Neil earlier had apparently not yet died out. Neil opened his mouth only to spit rapid French back at Kevin. They passed Andrew’s name between them twice, but Andrew couldn’t think of a context for it other than his intention to stop them from ripping each other apart.

The French explained Neil’s outrageous pronunciation of Spanish. Everything else about him became increasingly questionable with each foreign word.

Kevin’s hand twitched under Andrew’s touch, in time with the corner of his eye.

“Don’t make me count, Kevin,” Andrew said to steal Kevin’s attention.

He dug his nails into the tan skin of Kevin’s wrist and though with visible revulsion, Kevin loosened his fingers around Neil’s neck.

Neil jerked free, but stayed at arm’s distance to stay in Kevin’s face. Andrew forced Kevin’s hand to rest by his side, held it there just in case.

“Don’t drag your issues where they don’t belong,” Kevin hissed. “You have more important things to worry about.”

“Then don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Neil said.

Only by the time Neil left the court had Kevin relaxed under Andrew’s touch, his shoulders sagging as he leaned his weight against Andrew’s side. He counted to ten, and although not out loud, Andrew recited the numbers with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I'm not sure what I think of this chapter, as it was one of those really hard to write for some reason. 
> 
> If you are expecting some foxes scenes, I don't know if I can deliver: Andrew avoids most of them most of the time, after all. That said, I absolutely will explore Andrew's friendship with Renee more
> 
> Have a nice rest of the day and let me know what you thought!


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil finally meets his coach. Andrew has a bad day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: a beginning of a panic attack

Nathan Wesninski was a decent actor.

On the small display of Andrew’s phone, Nathan played his role of a worried father well enough to fool the man interviewing him, but not Andrew. He sat on the edge of the armchair in front of a plain grey studio screen and fidgeted in intervals of ten seconds or so, avoiding eye contact and then staring straight into the camera. He folded his hands in his lap only to unfold them in a heartbeat, picked on his perfectly manicured nails.

The gestures were unnatural to Andrew’s eyes. They were familiar and yet strangely unfitting of the middle-aged man, as if they had been observed on someone else and adapted to suit Nathan’s image. 

It hit Andrew then. 

The fidgeting was a piss poor copy of Neil’s tics, which had been developed by years of sneaking around in hopes of finishing the day without angering anyone. Andrew had gotten used to them, to Neil in his entirety, to the point he overlooked the reminders of Neil’s background, but there was no mistaking the inspiration of Nathan’s little show. His movements couldn’t had been stolen from anyone else but his own son.

Sick to his stomach, Andrew scowled at the phone in his hands, the only source of light in his dark room. 

Nathan carried on with the interview. The interviewer asked him question after question, and he answered them all without a second of hesitation. He spat lie after lie about how his son had disappeared without a trace, how police had found no leads. He paused only to exhale a worried sigh, as if on a verge of tears that would never fall from his dry eyes.

All politicians needed to be good liars at least. The promising mayor candidate Nathan Wesninski was a decent actor, but not a perfect one.

Once Nathan fell quiet, the interviewer, who had been nodding along to Nathan’s story, turned to the camera with a mournful face. He repeated that the police had not yet been successful in gaining useful information about the boy and that every call from the public counted. Then he reached out of the frame and pulled out the already familiar photo of Neil, young and clearly miserable even in the picture.

Nathan’s face hardened just for a second, betraying the image he had worked so hard for. Before the interviewer could notice it – before anyone who wasn’t looking for it could – he caught himself. Nathan melted the ice of his eyes with ease that Neil was yet to perfect, as if it had never been there in the first place.

A shiver ran down Andrew’s spine in the middle of a hot July night. Neil resembled his father like a photograph lost in the flow of time, but he wouldn’t become consumed by stone and ice as Nathan had. Neil would always burn.

The interviewer showed the photo to the audience and continued on about the public’s concern and support. He highlighted how easy it is to spot a ginger boy. Andrew thanked his past self for sacrificing a part of his sanity to stain the brilliant orange of Neil’s hair by a boring brown.

Nathan slipped back into his role, encouraged people to help him find his son. His voice gave away desperation, but Andrew could imagine its source wasn’t a fatherly love.

Before the show cut to the commercial break, Nathan looked into the camera one last time, and this time, it was to send a different message.

It was a promise that he would come for Neil eventually.

Out of everything he had said that night, Andrew believed this the most.

-

Under the threat of Nicky annoying him to death, Andrew continued to take all the medicine Nicky had pushed his way. He drank the herb tea twice a day instead of once a week, which made him somehow immune to the taste. He no longer needed to drop six sugar cubes into his cup – only four worked fine.

Nicky watched him with an unfamiliar smile and Andrew rather didn’t try to think of its origin or meaning. Some things were better left unknown.

The bitterness of the last pill, forced down Andrew’s throat along with breakfast, still lingered on his tongue as he pushed the front gate of the camp open. He spat it out onto the ground, and it didn’t help.

Andrew lit his first cigarette of the day, replacing the bitterness with ash. He smoked three more before the long-awaited black truck pulled up. It came to a halt at the back of the parking lot, right next to Kevin’s shiny SUV.

The truck was a model two years older than Andrew’s silver and red monster, but not a lot of people would guess so. This car had been well cared for ever since it rolled out fresh out of the factory. It had been treasured even, treated as a souvenir from two decades back. Andrew assumed its value would be at least a double of his truck.

Andrew dropped the butt of the cigarette to join the three laying by his feet. He dug them a pretty little grave and buried them by the gate, just so Nicky wouldn’t complain about him ruining the camp’s image. The dirt stuck to the tip of his boot and Andrew couldn’t bring himself to care.

By the time Andrew crossed the parking lot, coach Wymack was already locking the car, a duffle bag hanging off his arm. The reason for his late arrival had been explained to the team as a private business, but Andrew knew Wymack wasn’t visiting distant family or something equally trivial. 

Wymack’s private business had a name; one that continued to receive screen time in the evening news. But until the name was dead, the Foxes didn’t need to know about it.

“Minyard,” Wymack huffed when he noticed Andrew lurking by Kevin’s car. “What are you doing here?”

Andrew nodded towards Wymack’s single bag. It probably contained more alcohol than clothing.

“I was sent to help with your baggage,” Andrew said. “Got a lot of it?”

Wymack patted the hood of his truck before he shoved the keys into the pocket of his pants. He shrugged his bag off and tossed it Andrew’s way, sure Andrew would catch it to save the bottles clinking in it.

Andrew did, and hated himself a little for becoming predictable.

“All my baggage is already here,” Wymack huffed.

Andrew thought of the group in the dining room, pilled around one table and arguing about a bet he lost interest in as soon as he had heard the word ‘fucking’. Surprisingly enough, even Aaron had slapped money on the table. What he betted on, Andrew didn’t hear. 

“Here and more annoying than ever,” Andrew said.

Wymack rolled his eyes, but the gesture didn’t overshadow the grin splitting his aged face. “And the new kid?” he asked as they set off towards the main building. 

“Why don’t you ask Kevin?”

“I want to know the truth.”

“Calling your own son a liar,” Andrew mused. “I expected better from you, coach.”

“Not a liar,” Wymack shot back. “But very biased in some matters.”

That, Kevin could be. His current truth was that Neil didn’t deserve to even know the word exy.

“Have you brought enough to pay for it?” Andrew asked, out of habit. 

It was an old game, originating back in his first year when he still demanded to be bribed for every piece of information. Wymack continued to play along. 

“Of course,” Wymack said. Slowly he reached out to poke the duffle bag Andrew carried; the bottles inside clinked against each other again.

“He is good,” Andrew said. “The father will be the real issue.”

Wymack sighed. He stopped as they reached the door of the main building, scowl furrowing his eyebrows. The voices of foxes echoed down the hall and outside, blending together into a familiar source of Andrew’s headaches.

“Where do you even find kids like that.”

“On the side of the road.”

-

Neil entered the entertainment room on his tiptoes, like a boy scared of disturbing the conversation of men.

At the sound of the usually wide-open door shutting closed, Wymack looked up from where he sat sprawled in one of the old armchairs, Kevin looming by his side.

Neil looked nothing like the hidden talent Kevin had been blabbering about. He had a few inches on Andrew, but those weren’t enough to prevent his sweatpants from pooling at his ankles. The enormous t-shirt, washed out and torn in different places, gave away no hint of the muscles hiding underneath the plain clothing.

Wymack knew better than to trust first impressions. Neil’s scarred face promised a story worthy of becoming a fox under Wymack’s watchful eye.

“Hey, Neil,” Wymack said. “Ready to sell your soul?”

Still standing by the door, Neil eyed Wymack with poorly masked distrust; an expression Andrew hadn’t seen in a while. He twitched to run, whole body tense and left foot angled to take a step back instead of forward. What had triggered the reflex, Wymack’s wrinkled frown or the size of his arms, his age or his gruff voice, Andrew didn’t know.

Neil wouldn’t look at him. 

Neil had shot Andrew a glare before he had stormed off the court and he hadn’t looked back since.

“His soul isn’t worth a lot,” Andrew said. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table as Nicky wasn’t around. “Not as much as his legs could make one day, at least.”

Wymack nodded, already familiar with Neil’s potential thanks to Kevin’s drunken late-night phone calls. He gestured Neil over, but didn’t watch Neil making the decision. Instead, he reached into his bag for a thick file of documents Andrew could recite half asleep.

Andrew thought of stealing it from Wymack’s hand and throwing them at Neil to shake him out of his trance. Perhaps Neil would look at him then.

With a long exhale, Neil forced the visible tension to roll off his body, forced himself to lower his shoulders and relax his jaw. However, the fright lingered in his gaze. A liar with honest eyes could only fool those who weren’t looking.

It seemed Andrew was always looking these days.

Neil crossed the room, stopped by the coffee table. After a moment of hesitation, his eyes flickering between Wymack and the empty spot on the sofa, he sank down onto the cushion next to Andrew. The usual distance between their bodies felt like miles instead of a few inches, separating them instead of allowing them a room to breathe.

It should had not come as a surprise. It had been Andrew who forced the distance between them, pushed and pushed until he could barely reach the edge of Neil’s threadbare sleeve.

Wymack flopped the file onto the table and tilted his head to glance at Kevin. 

After the fiasco that had been the first team practice the previous day, Kevin barely spoke to anyone; he straight-up avoided Neil. Wilds had tried to reason with him, but he wouldn’t budge. 

He cursed Neil in French and then in heavily accented Japanese. The English vocabulary apparently lacked the correct terms to describe his mixed feelings about the boy he needed on his team and wanted to kick off at the same time. 

Andrew had handed him an empty notebook to write his emotions down. It had earned him a bunch of French words as well, even if he was only half-joking.

Kevin hadn’t cooled off yet. He was too stubborn to sit and face Neil after their argument, but also too obsessed to miss the meeting. Obsession didn’t suit most people, but the livid stubbornness was a good look for Kevin. It sharpened his eyes to match his high cheekbones, puffed out his chest and brought out the veins of his forearms as he clenched his fists by his sides. 

Whatever Wymack was searching for, he had found it on Kevin’s irritated face. He turned his attention back to Neil, pushing the pile of documents towards him. 

Andrew didn’t bother to move his feet even under Wymack’s nasty glare.

“Read this if you care,” Wymack told Neil. “Chances are Kevin already told you most of it.”

“Kevin didn’t tell me shit,” Neil muttered under his breath, nodded nevertheless. 

He lifted the file from the shade of Andrew’s boots and placed them on his lap. He read the contract with the same eagerness he had worn when Kevin had asked him to play with them two weeks ago, the worry too weak to overrule his passion.

Wymack offered Neil the pen, bright orange just to be annoying, without his usual scowl. “You need to sign with your real name,” he reminded Neil.

The colour drained from Neil’s face, panic seeping into the blue of his eyes. The pen he had just accepted fell out of his limp grip onto his lap as he sucked in a hollow breath.

“I can’t-” he gritted out. “I can’t, I don’t-”

Andrew’s hand flew to the back of Neil’s neck before his mind caught up, before he realised what was happening. He rested his thumb above Neil’s pulse point and pressed down enough to feel it.

“Breathe,” he said, pushing Neil’s head down until his forehead rested against his knees, the wrinkling papers be damned. “Breathe. Are you listening to me?”

Neil jerked his head, just barely a nod. 

“You can get it changed. Legally,” Andrew said. “It will cost you something, but that shouldn’t be a problem for you. If it is, I will pay for it. You chose to become Neil, and so you will sign as Neil and you will play as Neil. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Neil choked out, breathing still shaky. He twisted in Andrew’s grip so he could look up at Andrew, cheek squished against his thigh. “I do.”

“Good.”

At Neil’s second nod, Andrew released him. His palm burned where it had been warmed by Neil’s skin, a warmth Andrew couldn’t keep. He kicked his feet off the table and stood, shoving his hands into his jean pockets before he could attempt to do something as stupid as holding Neil’s hand as he signed his contract.

“I will keep my word,” he told Neil in case Neil still couldn’t bring himself to accept what he longed for. “You do your part.”

With that, Andrew dragged himself out of the room. 

-

The second team practice went significantly better. Andrew suspected Wymack was the one who deserved the credit for the lack of arguments on the court. 

Kevin and Neil cooperate as well as they were capable of, but they no longer seemed seconds away from killing each other. 

Andrew stood in the side of the goal and allowed anyone who had gotten that far to score. 

-

In the late afternoon, Andrew followed Renee down the stone path.

They settled in the grass by the path not far from the main building, where they could still hear the echo of the life of the camp. They used Andrew’s old hoodie as a blanket. Renee brought a small speaker and connected it to her phone, playing a soft melody that soon blended in with the background noise.

Andrew couldn’t tell if it played on repeat or if it was never-ending.

Soul-calming music, Renee had called it, but never told Andrew anything else.

The sun caught in Renee’s silver hair, dyed it pink. A few stray strands escaped the two small buns at the top of her head and fell into her face, but she didn’t seem to mind them. She focused on the creation in her hands, a flower crown she was twisting together out of the daisies Andrew plucked out for her.

That afternoon, they didn’t meet to talk. Andrew needed to simply exist for a while, away from Nicky’s worry and Aaron’s apathy, away from Kevin’s anger and Neil’s ignorance. Away from everybody’s problems so he could finally solve his own. 

He had only two weeks left, after all.

“Would you like to try?” Renee asked, halfway done with the crown.

Andrew shook his head, which she accepted with a smile. Instead of ruining her work like he ruined everything, Andrew reached out and plucked out more daisies to drop onto the pile in her lap. 

The melody had to be endless, he decided as he leaned back on his elbows, closing his eyes. He dozed off, probably, because the next thing he knew was Renee’s gentle voice calling his name.

When Andrew opened his eyes again, Neil stood on the path in front of them.

Andrew sat up and stretched his arms above his head. He stared at Neil, daring him to turn away once he finally looked Andrew in the eye again. The mix of confusion and determination written on Neil’s face was a warning sign of trouble if Andrew had ever seen one, but Andrew was far too invested to pay it mind.

“Can we talk?” Neil asked, the edge of his voice shaking the remains of sleepiness out of Andrew’s system. “Alone.”

Andrew huffed.

Before he could answer, Renee collected her phone and speaker and rose to her feet. Over her shoulder, she shot Andrew a smile that Andrew pretended not to understand and then she was gone.

In the grass by Andrew’s side laid the finished flower crown, fuller than those Andrew had seen kids make, ready to sit in someone’s hair.

“Today is not a good day, Neil,” Andrew said. “Not for me and certainly not for you.”

Neil frowned, pulled the sleeve of his t-shirt over his left palm and fiddled with it with his free hand. He mulled Andrew’s words over like he wanted to argue, but in the end he just nodded.

“I just wanted to say thanks,” Neil said. “For earlier.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” Neil said. 

The word want rang in Andrew’s ears long after Neil had withdrawn. It had been a long while since the last time Andrew had stopped, gathered himself and thought about what he would want, if he allowed himself to. 

-

A half-empty bottle of vodka accompanied Andrew, forgotten on the passenger seat while he smoked out of the truck’s open window. 

Aaron lay sprawled across the backseat, one foot kicked up against the head restraint of Andrew’s seat and the other pressed against the door. He wasn’t smoking that night, content to share the liquid poison from Wymack.

He hadn’t said a word when he climbed into the truck and neither had Andrew. It wasn’t a lot, not really – but it was a start that Andrew allowed himself to want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert - the next chapter contains the probably the most important (yet) scenes for Kevin and Andrew, so that's something to look forward to! Which is why this chapter may seem too Neil focused, but you know. There's a lot of development to work with


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is drained, and finally allows himself to think about what he has and what he could have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Sadly this is not the Kevin oriented chapter I was talking about - as I was editing this chapter, things got out of hand, and yeah.. It would be too much for one chapter.  
> The next one will be it for sure!

The birthday of Nicky’s mother came with the same dread it did every year.

Unlike other unpleasant events, Nicky hadn’t marked this one with a black dot on the calendar. Neither he nor Andrew would forget the day and what it symbolized, no need for the reminder.

For years, the woman had fed Nicky homecooked meals and shoved her religion down Nicky’s throat for a dessert. She had tied Nicky’s hands behind his back not with ropes but with old verses and ignorance of her rotten belief, smiling her way through destroying her child.

Like a good son, Nicky had thanked her and her god before bed each night. On Sunday mornings, he had blamed the dark circles under his eyes on extensive school work. They had all believed him. No one had noticed the hollowness of his eyes as long as he had fallen to his knees and had begged for his soul not to be dammed.

Instead of running away as many would, Nicky had spoken up, desperate and yet hopeful he would be met with acceptance, understanding. Their God had not granted him such luck. The stories of Nicky’s time in the hands of those who believed sexuality could be cured haunted Andrew as much as his own nightmares.

While Andrew’s mother did disown him, at least she couldn’t blame it on his sexuality. Back then, choosing between one infant and another, she couldn’t have known. During the short span of their reunion, Andrew hadn’t cared enough to enlighten her and her ill mind.

Tilda wasn’t made to be a mother, barely capable of taking care of herself. She had known that much. When the guild of giving her children up had hit her, she had been sensible enough to keep only one of them. It wouldn’t win her the title of the mother of the year and it wouldn’t win her Andrew’s forgiveness, but the fact couldn’t be overlooked while observing the bigger picture.

Having twins at the age of twenty-two wasn’t easy, Nicky joked sometimes. Whenever he meant himself or Tilda, Andrew could never tell. Whenever Nicky had considered every possibility and risk before signing the papers, Andrew’s conscience would never allow him to ask.

Nicky’s mother had seen the decision as reckless, life-ruining and unholy. She had told Nicky and everyone else that much, the cross around her neck a great symbol of the hypocrisy of her very being. The morning of her fortieth birthday, only days after Nicky had been named the guardian of the twins, she had blown the candles of her cake off and then had sent Nicky to pack his things.

That day, Andrew had found Nicky outside his childhood house, his entire life stuffed into three boxes, getting soaked by the rain along with him. That should have been the end of it. But before Andrew could shove both Nicky and his belongings into his truck, Nicky’s parents had burst through the front door. 

It had been the first time Andrew had wielded a blade to protect someone instead of to harm himself. 

Back then, Andrew had been confused by his own actions. He had barely known Nicky – papers and blood had meant nothing. 

As Andrew stared at the date on the screen of his phone, tucked away from the rest of the world in the safety of his room, he was confused no more.

-

The breakfast went as cheerfully as a funeral would.

Andrew had saved the chair on his left for Kevin, who had shot Andrew a questioning look, but didn’t ask about the change of the seating arrangement. Aaron had, unprompted, taken his seat on Andrew’s right. As if they both had sensed that for once, they were welcome to stick close. 

As if they both had sensed that today wasn’t about either of them but all of them. 

Nicky settled across from Andrew, a sad smile pulling on his lips. The phone he placed display down on the table hid at least five unsent messages, Andrew knew. Nicky would type them out only to discard them out of fear he wouldn’t receive an answer. After the first year of his independence, he had not received one. The second year, he hadn’t tried.

Nicky ate in silence, and so neither of them spoke.

If Andrew handed Nicky some German candy before he headed outside to smoke, it was the least he could do. It would take more than some candy, brought by Erik months ago, to repay Nicky for the three years of unconditional support and a place to call home.

Andrew was willing to try, however. He always would.

-

Andrew blew the grey cloud in the opposite direction, towards the court in front of them, but the wind still forced it into Neil’s face. Neil inhaled the smoke like it was the oxygen his lungs needed to keep him alive, and Andrew pretended not to notice. He tilted his head up instead.

The sky frowned down at them, the dark grey clouds promising rain if not a storm. For once, Andrew would welcome it.

Wymack paid attention to neither of them, gaze set on the Foxes running laps around the camp’s tiny court while the three of them stood by the benches. 

Somewhere, not that far away but out of their bubble, Kevin shouted at someone. At Nicky, possibly, to keep the day as normal as any other. Kevin could be considerate like that, but most people chose not to see that part of him.

“Neil,” Wymack said. “I called you aside too ‘cause you have the right to be present when we discuss matters concerning you, but you don’t have to listen to any of it. Is that clear?”

No longer interested in the sky, Andrew dropped his gaze just in time to catch Neil nodding, shrinking into his gear. Neil’s face remained free of the nervous energy that had him clenching his fists by his sides, but his eyes couldn’t lie they way his mouth could.

Still, Neil’s will to cling onto life was strong enough to push him through any unpleasantness.

“I understand,” Neil said.

On the court, Kevin ordered the team to start with the already familiar drills.

Andrew fixated on Kevin, on his form and movement among those few he trusted. When exactly did Kevin become safe to look at, Andrew didn’t need to ask himself. The date could very well be burnt into Andrew’s skin, one more scar to get lost in a million.

Kevin became safe to look at the moment Neil had replaced him in Andrew’s chest.

But Kevin didn’t disappear. He simply moved to another spot; to a spot reserved for Nicky and Aaron, making himself home as if he had belonged the whole time. It should have been a shock; it should have been a surprise, at least. 

It had been not. Andrew had woken up one day, and he knew the same way he knew his own name. Kevin was family not because of blood, but because of countless nights of silence and secrets and bottles of vodka and trips to the middle of nowhere just to shout.

Kevin safe to look at, because Andrew knew Kevin and Kevin knew Andrew.

The only person Neil could look at right then was Andrew, and his gaze burned where it landed on Andrew’s cheek.

Andrew took one last drag of his cigarette before he pulled it away from his lips, a good half of it left. He blindly offered it to Neil, who plucked it out his hand immediately. Even in his rush to accept the cigarette, Neil’s fingers avoided brushing Andrew’s.

Wymack finally turned his attention on the two of them. He wouldn’t ask and Andrew wouldn’t tell, but he did see what Andrew allowed him to. This, he needed to know to take the extra step should the need for it arise one day. 

“What you got, Andrew?” Wymack asked.

Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. He ignored Neil’s eyes on his side profile as he sorted his thoughts out, figuring out how to word what Neil couldn’t bear to hear. In the end, however, all the words in the world would be wrong.

“Considering the lost son is still at the camp while the daddy schedules one interview after another,” Andrew said. “Neil is safe for now.”

“But he-“ Neil interrupted, only to cut himself off.

He was a pitiful sight of the boy Andrew knew him to be, features twisted in fear and his whole presence reduced to one of a prey animal waiting to be hunted down. 

“It seems he is doing more public mourning than actual searching. That plays into our cards so far.”

Wymack scowled. “So far?”

The last interview of Nathan promised a change, a shift in his so far half-hearted search. He would come for Neil sooner or later, sooner being the more likely option. The pretend game they had been playing for over a month would soon be forced to end; Andrew couldn’t be the only one to remember that each night he waited for sleep to overtake him.

“The media will get bored of the missing son and latch onto another troubled soul to follow,” Andrew said. “But until the elections are over, he needs the publicity that comes with the story. Once they drop him, he will need to lure them back in.”

Wymack sighed, nodded.

“With either a heart-warming reunion or a funeral,” Andrew finished, the words tasting bitterer than ash.

Neil barely muffled the whimper escaping him. The smouldering cigarette fell out of his hand and dropped onto the ground, rolling away from his running shoes. There no longer stood the boy picking up fights with Kevin. There no longer stood the boy mouthing off Riko and saving Kevin a nasty bruise.

In front of them stood the person beneath all the layers of Neil – Nathaniel Wesninski, a boy terrified of his own father.

Andrew crushed the stray cigarette under his sneaker. 

“He will not get the chance for the latter,” Andrew said. “That is all I can promise. Is that enough for you?”

Wymack cursed under his breath. “They don’t pay me enough for this,” he muttered. He shot Andrew a meaningful look before he strode off, leaving the two of them behind.

Neil sagged onto the bench, head falling into his hands. Withdrawn into himself, he looked just like the picture of him on the late-night news, and Andrew –

Andrew ached. For him, because of him.

“Abram,” Andrew said as he sank to his knees in front of Neil. He tangled all his fingers in Neil’s messy curls before he could think better of it, tugging until Neil looked up at him. “Is that enough for you?”

Neil choked out a strangled laugh, a sound so dreadful it had to scratch Neil’s throat bloody as it clawed out. Nothing on Neil’s face hinted belief in Andrew’s words, but still, Neil nodded.

“It is,” Neil breathed out. “I just-“

“I cannot promise you will never see him again, Abram. You might end up with the same kind of contract Kevin has,” Andrew said. “But I won’t let him touch you ever again.”

Andrew wouldn’t, even if it cost him both eyes and arms. 

Neil nodded, closed his eyes. He leaned into Andrew’s touch, just barely, and Andrew allowed him to, just once. Just for a moment that Andrew’s imagination could stretch on forever later, mark it as sacred and hide it away for eternity.

Somewhere, not that far away but out of their bubble, Kevin called their names. The harshness of his voice burst the bubble and Andrew jerked back, shooting back to his feet. 

Andrew didn’t dare to look back as he followed Kevin’s order, dragging himself to the goal.

Above, the sky began to weep.

-

Aaron could fit twice in the hoodie he had chosen to wear that night. It reached his midthighs the way it always had, but Aaron didn’t fill it out how Andrew remembered him to. 

If they were to pull their dirty little trick then, trading names to fool others, they would fail. 

Aaron was no longer Andrew’s mirror image. His hair was barely two inches long and his cheeks as hollow as they had been the day Andrew had opened the bathroom door. The only scent lingering on Aaron’s clothes and skin was Nicky’s fruity laundry detergent and cheap shampoo.

Aaron was no longer Andrew’s mirror image, but he seemed more himself than he had been in years.

Andrew sat perfectly still beside him, plate still full, and couldn’t bring himself to smoulder the spark of hope. Somewhere deep, Aaron had kicked off the bottom of the sea of addiction. When exactly he would break the surface to breathe in the fresh air, Andrew couldn’t tell. 

But there was hope, a sliver of it at least, that one day, Aaron would swim with his head above the water.

Andrew forced his dinner onto Aaron’s plate, and sat perfectly still until Aaron finished the extra serving as well.

-

“Have you noticed?” Nicky asked later that night, when he and Andrew stacked the dishes into the dishwasher. 

“Yes.”

“Should we- ?”

“No.”

Nicky nodded, the same hope Andrew had experienced blossoming on his face. 

-

Andrew spent the Friday morning hidden in his cabin, cigarette butts pilling by his side and a crumpled twenty dollars bill heavy in his pocket. He thought about burning it. He thought about burning the bill and the exy keychain and his own tongue, all the things that had led him exactly to that point. 

He thought about allowing himself to be consumed by the fire that Was Neil. It would be a nice way to go, to replace the ash on his tongue with Neil’s desperation. It would be a good way to go, to let himself combust just to experience Neil’s touch on his skin.

He wished he could blame the time and place, a month with someone new in his home. But stealing the credit from Neil would be the same as lying, and Andrew had decided to leave the lies behind.

It had been Neil.

It had been Neil all along, and yet Andrew could count all he knew of him on the fingers of one hand.

Then again, so could Neil. 

That didn’t explain anything; certainly not Neil’s persistence as he appeared in the cabin’s door, out of breath and out of this world. He glared at Andrew with anger that didn’t reach his lips, softened by something Andrew wouldn’t dare to name. 

“What is your problem?” Neil asked, too quietly for the distance between them.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, the shape of his fists disappearing under the fabric. Mud stains reached as far as his thighs, unmistakable on the light denim of that terrible overall. Why he had run to the cabin, Andrew didn’t understand. 

“You kiss me and then just ignore me,” Neil said. “How is that fair?”

Andrew flicked one of the cigarette butts off in Neil’s direction. Then another, and another, until they had surrounded Neil’s dirty sneakers.

“I warned you not to make me the source of your regret, Neil,” Andrew reminded him. “You did anyway. If you want to speak of fairness, how is that?”

Neil muttered something Andrew didn’t catch before he stepped further in the cabin. He gazed down at Andrew for a moment and then decided to drop down onto the cold floor as well. If Andrew stretched his arm out far enough, he would be able to slip his fingers into Neil’s hair.

Andrew barely saw him through the haze of memories clouding his vision.

“I don’t regret a thing,” Neil said.

Andrew almost believed him. Andrew wanted to believe him. He didn’t. He lit another cigarette, willed his hand not to betray him just this once as he brought it to his lips.

“Don’t you dare to lie to me,” Andrew said.

It wasn’t a sight that Andrew could forget, Neil’s hand pressed to his own lips and eyes wide with what Andrew had dreaded the most. As always, it had been Andrew’s fault. It was his own damn fault; he had allowed himself to take instead of give, he had allowed himself to want when he should have known better.

Andrew blew the smoke into Neil’s face with more force he would admit, and for once, Neil avoided it instead of welcoming it into his lungs.

Liar.

“I am not lying.”

“I saw it on your face that night.”

“You are wrong.”

Andrew snorted, and he didn’t recognize the sound until he did. It was Aaron’s disdain, Aaron’s hatred and Andrew’s own heart.

“Am I?”

Neil dared to shift closer to Andrew, as far his own boundaries had let him. He leaned back to sit on his heels, stared Andrew right in the eye like eye contact could convince Andrew of the honestly of his lies.

“You are mistaking my confusion with regret,” Neil said.

Andrew’s hand jerked before he could control it, pulling the cigarette away from his lips. He crushed it against the wooden floor, one black mark next to another. He shook the haze off, allowed himself to look at Neil properly.

“Confusion?”

“I did want to,” Neil said. He sucked in a deep breath and raised his hand. It hovered over Andrew’s, but didn’t lower itself to touch. “I just didn’t think it could-”

Hope was a traitorous thing, Andrew knew. It fed on your fears and ambition and organs, sometimes, just to lead you into the darkest alley of disappointment. 

“Feel good. That good.”

“Did it?”

Still, Andrew waited for Neil to bite the bullet. He waited for something he couldn’t have, couldn’t imagine having.

“Yes,” Neil said.

Neil swallowed his pride with a smile, and so Andrew would swallow his own. For whatever this was or could be. He clasped Neil’s hand in his, ignored familiar tingle at the unfamiliar sensation. 

Andrew ignored it until he couldn’t ignore it anymore, and even then, when he released Neil’s hand and moved out of reach, Neil’s smile bloomed on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are (very slowly) approaching the end of this story, my dudes.  
> At least in the terms of the time in the story, lol. Knowing myself, I will stretch this out for like at least another 5 chapters.   
> Only two weeks till the trial!
> 
> Hope you are doing well and see you the next time!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin makes a daring move forward and Andrew is still unsure about his own path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go!  
> This is, despite being basically unedited and thus may be messy, one of my favourite chapters so far!

“Take me to the town,” Kevin blurted out as soon as the door to Andrew’s room creaked open.

Tipsy, Kevin stood in the hall, pinching the skin stretched across his tattooed cheekbones between his fingers. Under the faint yellow light, the tattoo made itself impossible to ignore, exactly the way Riko had intended it to. Kevin squeezed and squeezed until his skin had lost its colour. The black ink only stood out more.

Andrew, unsure if Kevin was a dream or a nightmare visiting him so early in the evening, reached out and slapped Kevin’s hand off.

Kevin jerked at the sudden contact, just barely. He rubbed the back of his hand against his cheek like the tattoo itched where it had been forced deep into his skin. It wasn’t impossible. He lowered his hand until he could twist it in the hem of his sweatshirt, away from his reddening cheek. His breath hit Andrew’s face then, vodka and perhaps whisky mixed with pure desperation. 

“You have been drinking,” Andrew said. 

“Just enough to make it to your door.”

Coward, Andrew had called Kevin once. Coward, Andrew had bitten out when Kevin had first stood in front of Andrew drunk off his mind. Instead of breaking down or lashing out at the accusation, Kevin had laughed. He had laughed and handed Andrew his empty bottle, had told Andrew to take a look at himself in the glass.

If he truly were a coward, he would still be dressing in black, Kevin had told Andrew. If he truly were a coward, he would wear the tattoo on his cheek with obedience instead of disgust, Kevin had told Andrew. If he truly were a coward, then it took one to know one.

Now Kevin stood before him once more, and Andrew understood the difference between cowardness and fear. He snatched his keys off his bedside table, closed his fingers around them before Kevin noticed the exy keychain on them still.

“Are you sure?” Andrew asked.

Kevin nodded, tugged at the fabric of his sweatshirt so hard a few of the stitches tore. All that money for image and nothing else. 

Still, Kevin’s skin was worth more than his overly expensive clothes, and so Andrew wouldn’t stop Kevin from tearing it apart.

“You will be putting a target on your back.”

This target, Riko couldn’t ignore. This one would bring him to the camp, all the way up into Kevin’s space, and Andrew wasn’t sure if he would still be around to stop him. Losing his brand on Kevin would hurt Riko’s pride more than any of Kevin’s wins, more than Kevin’s betrayal. 

The disappearance of the number two was bound to sharpen Riko’s teeth and prompt his nails to grow into claws, force the beast in him out.

“I’ve always lived with Riko’s target on my back,” Kevin said. “I might as well be the one to put it there.”

-

The neon sign above the door of the run-down building flickered again, its light lonely in the darkness of the night. They stood outside alone, leaning against the truck’s hood as the whole world seemed to be asleep. Whenever thanks to Kevin’s tipsy eagerness or Andrew’s reckless foot on the gas, they had arrived early. 

Whenever that was good or bad for Kevin’s mental state, Andrew didn’t know. 

Andrew kicked the wheel of the truck to get rid of the itch under his skin, but all the gesture ensured was another scratch on the tip of his boot. He had known people who would throw a fit over it; people whose biggest worry was a stupid shoe. Once, he had believed Kevin to be one of them. Then he had seen Kevin destroy one pair of expensive sneakers after another, without a care in the world. 

“It will hurt,” Andrew said, just to remind Kevin of his presence. 

Kevin nodded. He watched the sign with not hesitation but wonder – wonder at his own decision. He was no stranger to pain nor did he fear it. For people like them, the pain was nothing but a reminder they were still alive. 

Andrew lit a cigarette and then another. Kevin didn’t say a word. The door flew open before Andrew could pull out a third cigarette. 

A young woman stepped outside and shot them a strange look, something between distrust and acceptance. Slowly, she raised her hand, squeezed in a fist. Under the neon light, a set of keys gleamed between her fingers. If Andrew focused for long enough, he could make out the tremble of her hand. Still, she didn’t waver under Andrew’s gaze.

It was all in her eyes. 

She couldn’t be older than eighteen. 

Andrew nodded at her, once. 

He didn’t watch her hurry down the street, but the echo of her heels rang in his ears for longer than it should had. 

“Let’s go,” he told Kevin.

The words shook Kevin out of his trance and set him into motion. In two, three steps, he crossed the distance between him and the door. He tugged at the handle and it gave under his strength easily, allowing him to yank the front door open. 

They made their way down the dimly lit hall, heavy bass and foreign lyrics guiding them to the very last door of the hall. It had been entirely covered in stickers, some new and some so faded their print had become unrecognizable. Many of them were obscene the way only straight people designed things to be.

Kevin stopped before it. Andrew lingered only a step behind.

“Kudos to you for picking the least shady place possible,” Andrew mused.

Kevin shot Andrew a look as dirty as the hall had to be judging by its stench. “Coach recommended him,” he said. “He had to move out of the city, but he is good.”

“If you say so.” Andrew rolled the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his forearms, just in case he needed quick access to the blades tucked against his skin. “It is your face, not mine.”

Kevin didn’t grace Andrew with reply this time, opting to pound his fist against the door a few times. Somehow, it had been heard over the noise. The music inside died out and the last of the doors standing between Kevin and his pride opened as well. 

A man who Andrew assumed to be the tattoo artist in question greeted them shirtless as if the black ink stretching across his stomach, chest and arms counted as clothing. Green-dyed hair curled around his face and fell onto his shoulders. Andrew didn’t know what to make off him until he grinned, all teeth and a glint of silver that could only be a tongue piercing, and offered Kevin a hand. 

“Super stoked to meet you, man,” he exclaimed, uncaring of the hour. Deaf from the noise he had been listening to, perhaps. “Your last game was fire.”

Kevin accepted the offered hand and shook it, letting himself to be pulled into the studio as he was showered in compliments. The guy had a full stock of them.

Andrew stood in the hall for a moment longer, couldn’t help but huff. 

How strange it was, to know that the person he had worried about the most, would be alright after all.

-

Andrew tapped his foot against the white floor tile in synch with the buzzing of the tattoo gun in the background. The tip of his boot hitting the spot where one tile met another each time. Under the piercing white light of the small room, which had been described as a lobby and was anything but, the latest scratch in the leather looked deeper than it was. 

Stevie, the tattoo artist, talked a lot. He had shown Kevin his exy tattoo, and although Kevin hadn’t said say so, he had liked it. Andrew could tell, somehow. The constant buzzing muted most of Stevie’s words, most of them exy related, but he was still only next door. 

Kevin was only next door. Kevin lay on a dentist chair and allowed a needle to pierce his skin over and over just next door. He had wanted to do this alone. 

Andrew missed the spot where one tile met another this time. He clicked his tongue and shifted on the old sofa, the only piece of furniture in the small room that was anything but a lobby. He had been allowed to smoke in there. Andrew was fed up with tasting ash on his tongue.

Instead, he pulled out his phone. The usually bright display seemed suddenly so dim under the world’s harshest light. 

‘ _ He understands _ ,’ he typed, and deleted the text immediately. 

_ ‘Bee, would an insect tattoo scare people off? _ ’ he typed, and deleted the text immediately. 

_ ‘Can two weeks be enough for someone?’  _ he typed, and deleted the text immediately.

Andrew lit the cigarette in the end. He listened to the constant buzzing and swallowed down ash, vaguely replaying Nicky’s warning about cancer. If Andrew had cancer, then perhaps someone who didn’t deserve it wouldn’t have to have it. Wouldn’t it be oh so nice, if people only ever got what they had deserved.

Perhaps then Andrew wouldn’t know guilt the way he had always proclaimed not to know it.

-

If art had ever given Andrew anything, it was the knowledge that people worshipped misfortune and anything broken. 

In the ideal world, Kevin would be praised for his skills only, but he had not been so lucky. His fans loved him as much as they loved any good tragedy with a beautiful face. Had they seen Kevin in the states Andrew had, they would name him saint one day and forget him the next.

-

“A queen,” Andrew said when they sat in the truck, feet kicked up onto the dashboard, and the endless fields stretched around them. He couldn’t tear his eyes off Kevin’s cheek, still covered in the wrapping foil, swollen and blooming red. “Why a queen?”

Kevin sighed, shoving a bunch of fries into his mouth. Later, he wouldn’t admit to stuffing himself with greasy fast food. Now, wide awake in the early morning hours and maybe a little hangover, he didn’t seem to care about either his diet or his reputation. 

Andrew liked him the best like that; always had. This was the person only a few people were allowed to know.

“It- It made sense to me,” Kevin said. “It felt right.”

“Why now?”

Kevin froze with hand inches away from his mouth. A few fries escaped his grip and fell into his lap, but Kevin paid them no mind. He leaned back into the seat and stared into the field for a long moment. When he looked back at Andrew, his eyes were brighter than Andrew had ever seen them.

“I didn’t want to wear it for your trial,” Kevin said. “I want to stand behind you as my own person because no matter what happens, I had chosen you over him. Over all of them.”

Andrew didn’t look away only because he had lost control of his own body, stuck right there and then, with Kevin in the middle of a sunflower field. 

“You have always been your own person.”

Kevin shook his head. Some of his fries ended up on the truck’s dirty seat.

“They always say-“

“It doesn’t matter what they say,” Andrew cut him off. “All that matters is you, Kevin. I will keep my word. I will keep you out of Riko’s reach until the bastard is burning in hell where he belongs.”

Kevin sucked in a shaky breath and closed his eyes. Whatever else he had wanted to say, he instead swallowed down with his cold fries. The black queen on his cheek didn’t move, but as the first sunrays hit the tattoo, it seemed to be smiling. 

-

The first few seconds before the video call connected were always dreadful. Andrew had to stare at his own, pixelated reflection on the screen of the old laptop and nothing else. That morning, he failed to recognize himself in it.

His face was still the same and yet he couldn’t read his own expression, couldn’t figure out why the shape of his mouth seemed wrong. The stranger stared back at him.

Betsy’s image finally appeared next to Andrew’s, the room behind her a familiar background. Her laptop had been set on the coffee table in front of her armchair to mimic a normal session as much possible. The first time Andrew had accepted an online session during the summer, he had found the effort foolish. Now, two years later, he almost appreciated it.

Betsy smiled the way she always did, but Andrew could tell she didn’t recognize him either. Except she had expected the stranger to show up one day, believed to meet him despite Andrew’s protests. Andrew had sworn the stranger would never appear before her.

He did. He sat there, in Andrew’s room and stared into the camera, all while wanting something he couldn’t have. Andrew hated him.

“Hello, Andrew,” Betsy greeted the stranger. “How have you been?”

Straining his gaze on Betsy’s small image instead of his own, Andrew told her. He told her about Nicky and his stupid ideas and the anniversary his family celebrated like a birthday. He told her about Aaron and his terrible haircut and the lack of smell of weed on his clothes in the last few days. He told her about Kevin being as obsessed as ever but still able to grow, about the not yet healed black ink on his cheek. He told her about Neil. 

His family had always been a lot – too much for some – but the arrival of a stranger seemed to set them all into a motion Andrew couldn’t comprehend. 

Or it was just Neil pushing them forward, the same way he pushed Andrew into the foreign waters of the unimaginable. All Andrew could do was to pull Neil along, cross his heart and count the remaining days down. The calendar on the wall promised him only two more weeks, and compared to a wasted life, that time was nothing.

Andrew was yet to find his answers to all of Neil’s unspoken questions.

“I make a decision one day and go against it the next one,” Andrew said. “It isn’t getting me anywhere, as you can imagine. I make no progress at all.”

Betsy smiled, sipped her hot chocolate that couldn’t be warm anymore. She wouldn’t drink while Andrew spoke; she wouldn’t move, as if even the slightest jerk of a limb would scare him off. It used to, when he had first sat in her office. 

“You know better than anyone that progress is not linear,” Betsy reminded him.

“Knowing that doesn’t make walking in a circle any easier.”

Betsy nodded and set her mug down on the coffee table in front of her. She leaned forward, closer to the camera, and while the smile lingered in the wrinkles around her mouth, it had disappeared from her eyes.

“Sometimes you just have to undertake the same path over and over again until you remember it well enough to make a different turn the next time.”

Neither of them spoke for a long moment after that particular truth. 

“Perhaps the decision you are trying to make isn’t one that can be decided in one day,” Betsy said. “Would you share the nature of this decision?”

Andrew averted his gaze off to the side, towards the window. He swore he had heard Kevin shouting something under his window. But it couldn’t be – Kevin was still asleep, in his room right across Andrew’s. 

“I’m trying to decide if I am able to have something I’ve never had before,” Andrew said.

Betsy hummed, waited for a second in case Andrew decided to elaborate. When he did not, she asked, “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

Andrew shoved his hand into his pocket and fished out his keys. Uncaring if Betsy could see or not, he twisted the exy keychain off the ring and tossed his keys aside. 

“Because it isn’t meant for people like me.”

“Define people like you.”

The stranger let out a strangled laugh. He squeezed the keychain in his hand until it dug into his palm, sure to leave a mark behind. Andrew should had burnt it a long time ago. The second Neil had given it to him.

“Undeserving,” Andrew bit out, finally daring to face Betsy on the small screen. “Unworthy.”

Betsy didn’t as much as flinch at the change in his tone. She smiled again, all warmth and sincerity, and Andrew couldn’t help but remember the first time the smile had been aimed his way. He had stridden out of the office, slamming the door behind him so hard it didn’t even close and left the building before his new therapist could catch up with him. 

Except she hadn’t – she hadn’t even tried. She had allowed him to leave, and when he had shown up for his next session, she had smiled again, as if nothing had happened.

Just like back then, the anger bubbling in Andrew’s throat dissolved into nothing but misery at the sight. 

“Why do you believe you do not deserve to have this thing?” Betsy asked. “Is it because of who you are or because of what had happened to you?”

Andrew loosened his grip on the keychain. It fell out of his hand and landed on the keyboard of the laptop, covering up the letter n. A sign, Nicky would call it. A curse, Andrew would argue. 

“You cannot separate the two,” Andrew said. “I am what had happened to me.” 

“You are not what had happened to you, Andrew,” Betsy said. “You are who you make yourself to be.”

Andrew was every monster and demon he had encountered in the dark; his skin was nothing but scars and his lungs were nothing but silent screams. He didn’t know how to be anything else but a ghost of past sins, much less a human.

Because of whatever she saw on the stranger’s face, Betsy didn’t wait for his response.

“Allow yourself to make your own choices. Allow yourself to choose what you want to have and what you don’t.”

Andrew poked the keychain. It pressed down onto the keyboard and typed a few letters in the chat between him and Betsy, empty except for the history of video calls. Andrew sent the nonsense of a message just because. 

Neil’s door creaked open and closed next to Andrew’s. Neil’s steps down the hall, however, Andrew couldn’t hear. He could as well be standing behind Andrew’s door, ear pressed against the wood. He could be listening to every word Andrew forced out of himself for the sake of recovery he didn’t even believe to be possible.

“You both make it sound so easy, to want something.”

“Me and who, Andrew?”

“You and Neil.”

Betsy hummed, familiar with the name. 

“Perhaps we are right. You will know only if you give our advice a try.”

Andrew didn’t speak then. 

Betsy did. She offered more advice Andrew would remember but not act upon, some of it more interesting than others. She used big words with Andrew, sometimes, because he would recall them and search them up, and then try to use them against her the next time. It was a game of sorts.

It seemed Andrew was always playing games.

“He is coming tomorrow,” Andrew said just minutes before they would hang up.

“Who is?”

“Kevin’s lawyer I’m supposed to trust.”

“Do you not?”

“I don’t trust anyone.”

Betsy smiled. 

“I don’t think that is true, but I understand why you are wary of a person like that. He might have dig in too deep into your past, right?”

Andrew went to nod, but the gesture felt wrong. He poked the keychain again, sent more nonsense Betsy wouldn’t mind deleting. 

“I don’t trust him because I’m starting to think I might have a future after all.”

Betsy’s smile grew into a big grin, one that Andrew couldn’t remember. Andrew could remember all that had once happened. Betsy had never smiled like that.

“Andrew,” Betsy said, her voice somewhat tender. “I believe in you and your family believes in you as well. The only person left is you.”

Andrew looked at the stranger on the screen, and the stranger looked back at him. In the end, they were one and the same. The stranger wanted what he couldn’t have, and Andrew – 

Andrew wanted it what he could have, perhaps, just for a while, just to experience it.

“I’m working on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally don't care what Neil or Nora say about Kevin or Andrew, in this essay I WILL !  
> -I think Kevin wouldn't call Wymack dad or something like that in front of Andrew just .. because? No one minds tho  
> -KEVIN JUST WANTS TO BE A GOOD FRIEND !!!!  
> -Yall wanted some free therapy? Here it is!  
> -IT IS ALL ABOUT THE HIDDEN MESSAGES AND THE CONTEXT, THE YEARNING, THE LONGING
> 
> Okay, that's all from my notes for this chapter. Let me know what you thought :D


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his session with Betsy, Andrew experiences the weirdest day of his life. It isn't exactly bad, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... yes, the rating did change .. I prefer to play on the safe side ... there's nothing explicit tho!

  
After lunch, the kitchen was a mess. Breakfast and lunch dished piled on the counters, some neatly stacked thanks to Kevin and some a breath away from toppling over and smashing against the floor. 

  
Those messy, unbalanced piles were the work of Neil and Aaron. Neil had tried to help but had ended up causing more trouble. Aaron had tried to cause trouble and had ended up helping. Neither of them had stayed behind long enough to get scolded by Nicky or to be kicked by Andrew. 

  
They were two sides of one coin, Andrew mused; opposites of one spectrum. Andrew couldn’t decide just how much he hated that particular realisation.

  
One by one, Andrew passed the dirty plates to Nicky, who knelt on the floor by their old dishwasher. Like Andrew, Nicky had given up on complaining. Instead, he asked the dishwasher for the impossible as he stuffed the dishes into it, two or three plates into one rack. While working, he hummed a tune Andrew didn’t recognize. Only occasionally he clicked his tongue when he accidentally touched some remains of food. It was mostly ketchup, not quite dried yet. 

  
“Sooo,” Nicky spoke up, drawing the vowel out as far as his vocal cords allowed him. “A little birdie told me you and Neil are talking again.”

  
The little birdie in question was anything but little. Boyd could be easily mistaken for a walking mountain of muscle; somewhat frightening if one didn’t know better. Andrew did know better. Boyd’s appearance didn’t match his goofy personality as much as his shorts never matched his sneakers. 

  
Boyd’s interest in Neil, however friendly and seemingly good-natured, confused Andrew. 

  
The foxes were all troubled bastards with pasts that didn’t look good at a resume, but Neil was with Andrew’s lot – the group that even foxes avoided getting too close to. They were a team within a team. The abyss between them and the rest divided the foxes into two groups that only Kevin and Nicky held together, barely. 

  
Boyd talked to Neil well aware of Neil’s position in his newly found team. Neil himself had made his stance clear enough multiple times now, but Boyd paid it no mind. Perhaps he believed that befriending Neil would bring the team together. It could, if Andrew was to be locked away for a lifetime. 

  
“I have never talked to anyone called Neil in my life,” Andrew said. He grabbed another plate off the pile, turned it in his hands. As Nicky outstretched his hand, Andrew pressed it dirty side up against Nicky’s palm. 

  
Nicky screeched in disgust, nearly dropping the plate. He crammed it into the already overflowing dishwasher and wiped his hand on his shorts, already stained by god knew what. The following day was a laundry day anyway. 

  
“Your spy feeds you carbs and false information.”

  
Nicky looked up at Andrew, brow furrowed but his eyes smiling. 

  
Against all odds, even after the strange start of the day that was Andrew’s session with Betsy, today wasn’t a bad day. Nicky could tell that much. After all, Andrew had offered to help in the kitchen.

  
“My information may be a little sugar-coated for the sake of my romantic soul, but not entirely false,” Nicky said.

  
Andrew handed him another plate instead of gracing him with a reply. 

  
Nicky turned back to the dishwasher and stared it down as if his scowl alone could create more space in it. When he accepted the fact the old thing was at its limit, he laid the plate back on the counter and shut the dishwasher closed. 

  
“Fine, call your boy whatever you want,” Nicky said. He pulled himself up and leaned back against the counter. “But you did talk, right?”

  
“He’s not my anything.”  
“He can be your nothing.” Nicky nodded to himself. “But, Andrew-“

  
Andrew watched Nicky’s expression twist into something complicated, ugly with experience and sad with memories, and he understood what Nicky was truly asking. Nicky didn’t care about Andrew’s relationship status or gossip. Not really. What mattered to Nicky was how Neil treated Andrew and his boundaries, his wishes and his no.

  
“Yes,” Andrew admitted through gritted teeth. He had promised to be honest. “We did talk.”

  
Nicky’s eyes widened a fraction, but Andrew could tell he was shocked only because he stumbled over his next words.

  
“Oh, wow. I – I didn’t expect to get this far,” Nicky said. A nervous giggle escaped him. It reminded Andrew of their first visit to the camp, when both the place and the laugh belonged to a stranger. “Did you say what you needed to?”

  
“Yes.”  
“And he listened?”  
“I suppose.”

  
Nicky nodded. He ran his hand through his messy hair, uncaring for the red smudge of ketchup still staining his palm. He shrank under Andrew’s searching gaze and turned away, gathering the remaining plates onto one pile. 

  
Andrew didn’t move an inch, but he crossed his arms over his chest before he caught himself.

  
“That is good, right?” Nicky asked. “Now you can ask him on a date or something.”

  
A date. The term was nothing but an abstract concept in Andrew’s mind, something people made up for the silver screens. The thought of asking Neil for such a ridiculous thing sent an unpleasant chill down Andrew’s spine. Whenever Neil’s acceptance or refusal would be worse, Andrew couldn’t decide. 

  
“I’m not asking him on a date,” Andrew said. 

  
Nicky hummed, unbothered. He had probably expected that much. Andrew was known; known and understood. Even after the two years he had spent trusting Nicky, it was terrifying. 

  
“Take him on a date but don’t call it a date,” Nicky said. “That’s what Kevin would do.”

  
Andrew huffed; he couldn’t help himself. “How do you know?”

  
“It just feels like something that Kevin would do, doesn’t it? He would probably frown the whole time and insult the person while asking them out, somehow.”

  
Andrew didn’t answer for a long time. 

  
He thought back of Kevin knocking on his door, drowning his heartbreak in alcohol. The night felt like ages ago, but Andrew knew the wound was still fresh. Sometimes Kevin stared at his phone as if it was to ring any moment. He stared at it as if he would send the explanation he couldn’t offer without ripping his chest open for Shay to see all his rotten flesh and Riko’s name tattooed across his heart. 

  
Kevin had sacrificed the only good thing in his life in hopes of shielding Shay from Riko’s cruel ways. He wouldn’t be asking anyone else out anytime soon.

  
“I guess,” Andrew said at last. 

  
-

  
That afternoon, the sun once again proved to exist as a stubborn force. The sudden heatwave forced Andrew to linger inside the main building, which not even a man-made heater could warm up during the winter. Now the long, dark halls tempted Andrew to walk them barefoot; to let his naked feet glide across the cold flooring. 

  
Were the foxes not around, whining about the weather and arguing about their stupid bets, Andrew would lose his boots in a heartbeat. 

  
Instead, he sought shelter in the gym. There he sat on the bench under the window, back pressed against the cool wall. Sweat soaked his t-shirt and clung his skin, but while others chose to discard unnecessary layers, Andrew wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not in front of them, and not in his room, which had turned into a burning hell. 

  
He had left the gym door wide open and that had to be enough. 

  
Kevin lay on the floor by the wall hidden by the curtains. The short sleeves of his sweated through t-shirt had been rolled up to reveal his shoulders. The hem of his shorts seemed to end miles above his knees. 

  
Andrew knew better than to wonder how Kevin could stand to show so much of his bare skin. Unlike Andrew’s, all of Kevin’s scars were hidden under his skin. Kevin’s self-consciousness hadn’t been born out of his reflection in the mirror. The hate Kevin bore for himself was rooted in his words and his actions, in his very existence. 

  
-

  
“Cancel the practice,” Andrew said. He wouldn’t step outside the relative safety of the main building even if Kevin didn’t listen to him, but Kevin had been strangely quiet the whole morning and noon.

  
Kevin groaned. He threw his left arm across his face, careful to avoid the healing tattoo on his cheek. The skin around the dark ink no longer bloomed bright red, but Kevin still flinched when he forgot himself and touched the spot out of habit. 

  
Andrew’s own fingers itched to press against the new shape, to feel its swollen edged and not the cursed number underneath it. The tattoo was a small victory. It could very well cause more damage than good, but the corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched each time he caught the sight of it. This was Kevin’s first step, and he had taken it without Andrew’s push.

  
Nicky had realised that as well.

  
Andrew hadn’t been there to witness the surprise and then delight overtake Nicky’s face when he had first seen the small figure of a queen, but he could imagine it. He could imagine the laughter and the embrace Kevin would bitch about but accept nevertheless. 

  
Nicky was as proud of Kevin as Andrew was. He had spent the majority of lunch telling everyone around so. 

  
“Fine,” Kevin muttered. He moved his arm to rest under his head and frowned up at Andrew. “It would be a waste of time anyway. Everyone is useless today.”

  
“Aren’t they useless every day?”  
Kevin rolled his eyes. “Don’t exclude yourself from them. You all are. But it is too hot today.”  
“You are growing wiser and wiser with each passing day.”

  
Before Kevin could retort something snarky, someone cleared their throat by the door. Andrew hadn’t heard anyone walking down the hall; he knew of only one person physically capable of muting their steps this well. 

  
“Nicky wants to know which vodka you want for tonight,” Neil said, probably to Kevin. “Apparently the freezer is too full for all of them.”

  
Andrew and Kevin looked up at the same time. Although it was a rare thing, judging by the revolted noise escaping Kevin, they for once seemed to agree on something. 

  
Neil stood by the door wearing his terrible overall and hoodie. His hair stuck to his forehead and Andrew could clearly see the dark spots under his armpits.

  
“Are you stupid,” Kevin said, and despite its wording, the sentence was a declarative one. “Are you literally stupid.”

  
Neil frowned. “Yes, but how is that a relevant answer to my question?”

  
Andrew snorted before he could stop himself from giving away his amusement. He caught Neil’s gaze and held it, unwilling to further react to Neil’s smart mouth and the smile tugging at it. 

  
Neil was the stupidest person Andrew knew. As far as Andrew was concerned, however, clever people proved to be the most boring ones anyway. If Andrew was ever seeking knowledge, he would find it online. When he longed for entertainment, Neil was his first and only option. 

  
In the end, Neil tore his eyes away first in order to address Kevin. “So?”

  
Kevin sighed and forced himself up to his feet. He shot Andrew a somewhat meaningful look and for that, Andrew called out just as Kevin reached Neil in the doorway.

  
“Close the door on your way out.”

  
Kevin whipped around faster than Andrew deemed humanly possible, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he said, “Not here.”

  
Andrew stared him down in a challenge Kevin would never win. 

  
Kevin gave up shortly after. He side-stepped Neil and pointedly left the door open, stomping down the hall. The echo of his steps had long died out when Neil seemed to catch on.

  
“Should I?” he asked quietly, tapping his knuckles against the sturdy door. Had the genuine confusion written on his face not hit too close to home, Andrew would have nodded.

  
“Do as you please,” Andrew said. 

  
Neil nodded and walked in. He looked around as if he hadn’t been shown the room before, which Andrew knew not to be the case. His gaze lingered on the curtains covering the mirrors on the wall, and Andrew couldn’t read his expression then. 

  
“What will happen to Kevin?” Neil asked, his voice still quiet. Small.

  
Andrew gripped the front of his t-shirt and peeled it off his overheated skin in a vain attempt to fan himself. The second he loosened his grip on the damp fabric, it stuck back to his chest. 

  
“What should happen to him?”

  
Neil turned to face Andrew as he sank onto the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him.

  
Andrew felt the temperature in the gym rise just looking at him in that worn-out hoodie of his. Perhaps if he closed the door himself and promised not to look, Neil would take it off before he suffocated.

  
“He got rid of Riko’s mark,” Neil said, as if the heat didn’t affect him. “That surely can’t mean anything good to come.”

  
Andrew tilted his head back against the cool wall. Not surprisingly, the ceiling didn’t offer him answers on a silver plate. 

  
“Riko will be furious.”  
“So-“  
“I will do what I always do,” Andrew said. He allowed his eyes to slide off the ceiling and settle on Neil’s face. “And this time, you will leave it to me. Do you understand?”

  
Neil scowled in obvious disagreement, but Andrew simply raised his hand and Neil’s complains died out before they could slip past his teeth. Thought grudgingly, he nodded. 

  
“Now, why are you wearing this?” Andrew asked.

  
Neil followed Andrew’s gaze to his hoodie and shrugged. “I don’t have anything else left.”

  
Andrew sighed. With great difficulty, he rose to his feet and gestured Neil to follow. 

  
-

  
Neil had never been in Andrew’s room. 

  
No one except Andrew’s family had, as even the past summer flings Andrew had entertained himself with had played out outside his bedroom. Outside the main building. Those quick exchanges of kisses had meant nothing, and had no place anywhere close to Andrew’s home. 

  
Allowing someone inside was as scary as it was strangely thrilling. Thought the room itself spoke of no glory, it bore segments of Andrew’s soul. If Neil looked closely enough, he would catch them – hidden in Andrew’s books, under his bed, in the drawer of his desk. He would find the twenty-dollar bill and Andrew wouldn’t be able to explain how that piece of paper grew into a treasure. 

  
But instead of taking all of it in, Neil stayed exactly where Andrew had left him. He stared straight ahead, out of the window, and didn’t say a word. 

  
Andrew could kiss him right there and then. He would, perhaps, had he not been busy digging through his wardrobe. All of Andrew’s t-shirts would fit Neil’s lean figure loosely; Andrew just couldn’t be sure any of them would hang loosely enough for Neil’s standards. For a reason Andrew would rather not think about, that detail presented itself as crucial. 

  
He ended up handing Neil a short-sleeved black t-shirt, nearly identical to at least twenty others. It had a tiny hole along the neckline, but Andrew doubted Neil would mind. 

  
Neil accepted it with a smile. Before Andrew could step outside, he slid the wide straps of the overall down his shoulders and reached for the hem of his hoodie. As Andrew stood frozen, terrified to move an inch, Neil made the decision for him.

  
“I don’t mind when it’s you,” he said and pulled the hoodie over his head. 

  
The sight of Neil’s bare, scarred torso didn’t surprise Andrew as much as he thought it would, were he to ever see it again. Unlike the first time, Neil’s hands didn’t tremble. He didn’t flinch and he didn’t hide from Andrew’s gaze. He only smiled when Andrew’s hand reached out on its own accord. 

  
Andrew asked as he always would. 

  
“Yes,” Neil said. He guided Andrew’s hand where it itched to rest, to the spot right above Neil’s heart. 

  
Andrew ran his thumb over the smooth skin, tracing the edges of the scar left by a frying pan. Not a single fresh wound could be found on Neil’s skin. Not a single scratch. The knowledge soothed Andrew’s nerves while he watched Neil’s chest rise and fall, heartbeat steady under Andrew’s touch. How Neil could trust anyone, let alone Andrew, like this, Andrew couldn’t comprehend. 

  
Betsy’s words rang in his ears, demanding attention Andrew had refused to give them until that very moment. But this –

  
This was something Neil was offering him. Something he could have, if he allowed himself to. He could have this for a week. He could have this for much longer, if he took that one dreadful step into the unknown the following morning. Neil was offering this, and all Andrew had to do was say yes.

  
Andrew jerked his hand back. 

  
Neil’s smile didn’t waver; it didn’t change at all. As he put the t-shirt on, he was smiling still, and all of it was oh so strange.

  
-

  
“Neil, wanna go to the lake with us?” Nicky asked later than afternoon. “The whole team will go.”

  
The five of them sat around the kitchen table, passing a bottle of cooled soda, as they saved the alcohol for the night. Neil had settled on Andrew’s right, and he occasionally kicked Andrew’s foot under the table. Judging by his constant twitching, he mourned the loss of the afternoon practice. He was the only one.

  
“Shouldn’t someone stay here?” Neil asked.

  
Nicky stole the bottle out of Aaron’s grip and pressed it against his nape. 

  
Aaron didn’t protest, only slumped further in his seat. Through his thin top, Andrew thought he could count his ribs. He forced his gaze away before he confirmed his theory and stuffed all the contents of their pantry down Aaron’s throat. Betsy had said that wouldn’t help. 

  
“Andrew will,” Nicky said. 

  
Neil’s eyes slid Andrew’s way and Andrew refused to acknowledge the look for whatever it meant. Neil kicked him again. Andrew kicked him back.

  
“Then I will stay here with Andrew.”  
“Oh, right!” Nicky exclaimed. “So you and Andrew can go once we’re back! Good thinking, Neil.”

  
Kevin rolled his eyes. Andrew kicked Nicky. Neil had to have the same idea, because Nicky cried out too loudly for someone kicked only once.

  
-

  
Leading Neil down the narrow path between the trees outside the camp’s fence, Andrew finally felt like he could breathe. Neil followed him without a word, apparently content to enjoy some shade and peace after the day full of suffering from the heat and foxes’ complaints. The sun behind them had begun to descent, but they still had a few hours of light. 

  
Much like the dense forest around the camp, and the camp itself, the lake wasn’t much of a sight. Almost forgotten by the humans, it laid a good mile away from the camp, surrounded by old trees and concealed by unkept grass. Its water was clear, as very few people knew of it, and it wasn’t too deep. Just enough to allow one to swim without the fear of sinking to the dark bottom. 

  
Andrew had discovered it the first summer he had spent in the camp. He had been unsure what to do with himself once he had realised he couldn’t keep on driving and hoping to crash every day. The lake perhaps found him instead. He had come there to read and to swim, sometimes, on the days he could bear existing in his skin. At the end of the summer, he had shown it to Nicky. 

  
They never mentioned the spot to the campers. The foxes were an exception, as Nicky had been desperate to buy them over. Andrew still remembered the rage that had filled him upon seeing them return, hair wet and faces pink. He hadn’t spoken with Nicky for days. After a call with Betsy, however, he had found out he could live with foxes knowing of his lake. 

  
Now, the person tailing him was someone Andrew wanted to share his place with. 

  
As the lake came into view, Andrew sped his step just slightly. They soon abandoned the path and walked through the high grass, which had this year reached Andrew’s hip. Andrew had thought establishing a better path here, but he had concluded it would draw too much attention. He could deal with high grass. 

  
They circled the lake until they reached the one spot where dark sand covered the ground instead of stones and grass. 

  
Andrew dropped onto the sand and pulled his boots off, kicking them aside. He rolled his sweatpants up to his knees and dipped his toes into the cool water. The weather seemed to never have any effect on its temperature; the water was this cold always. Its unchanging nature comforted Andrew’s skin. The familiarity of it relaxed his shoulders and lulled his eyes shut, even if he wasn’t alone.

  
He heard Neil collapse onto the ground beside him. 

  
“Is this one of your secret places?” Neil asked.  
“Yes and not,” Andrew said. “I have found it, but others know about it.”  
“Nicky knows about your cabin as well. That doesn’t make it your hiding place any less.”

  
Andrew shifted, his feet sliding under the water and splashing cool droplets onto his legs. “It does ruin the whole point.”

  
Neil chuckled. 

  
When Andrew opened his eyes again, eyelids warmed up by the sun, Neil lay next to him shirtless. His sneakers had been discarded too, left by the pile of Neil’s t-shirt and their towels. Neil beamed at Andrew, brighter than the sun could ever be. His roots had begun to show, barely an inch of the brilliant ginger Andrew still dreamed about some nights. 

  
Andrew’s thoughts were distant, for the first time in years whispering instead of screaming. 

  
They had forgotten the sunscreen, they had whispered. They would both get sunburnt, again, they whispered. Neil might let Andrew apply the smoothing treatment this time, they whispered. Andrew could have this if he wanted, they whispered. 

  
And Andrew –

  
Andrew wanted; he wanted this and he wanted Neil, all of his scars and remarks and secrets he couldn’t tell. 

  
“Yes or no?” he asked. 

  
Neil nodded. He whispered his yes against Andrew’s mouth. He repeated it to have Andrew’s hungry hands running over his bare skin and he repeated it when Andrew’s mouth travelled down his neck, leaving him breathless. His yes turned into silent sighs then, desperate, sharp intakes of air. He dug his fingers into the sand while Andrew hovered above him, keeping a careful distance between their bodies. Neil didn’t reach out once, trusting Andrew to take control.

  
For that, Andrew kissed him harder than before.

  
Kisses had never meant much to Andrew, but the taste of Neil drove him crazy. 

  
He couldn’t describe it even if he tried. His brain registered the feeling as irrational and yet refused to let it die out. There was something intoxicating about the shape of each and every of Neil’s scars. There was something irresistible about the soft skin right behind Neil’s ear, where Andrew had dripped the hair dye and couldn’t get his mind off ever since. 

  
It was the eagerness of Neil’s consent and every twitch of his body. It was Neil; as much as Andrew wanted this, Neil did too.

  
Andrew pulled back just enough to catch a second breath. His hair fell across Neil’s freckled cheeks, shielding him from the sunlight. The back of his neck felt too hot – it would probably be bright red by the time they returned to the camp. 

  
Neil’s heart ran miles under Andrew’s hand, but his smile was the calmest thing Andrew had ever seen. He looked as he had no worry in the world, and for a second, Andrew believed him. 

  
“Didn’t you bring me here to swim?” Neil asked, his voice still a little breathless.  
“I brought you here to drown you.”

  
Neil laughed. He gathered a handful of sand and tossed it over Andrew’s back. The action earned him a harsh pinch of the thin skin stretching across his ribs. His grin only grew wider, pulling at his scars and tempting Andrew to steal another kiss from him.

  
“I might still do it,” Andrew warned him.

  
It was too late for threats, however, as Neil knew how to listen to Andrew’s tone rather than his words. He knew how to read Andrew, and Andrew had never before considered being known could feel like anything but danger.

  
“Do it,” Neil said. “I will pull you down with me.”  
“You want to play mermaids at your age?”

  
Neil opened his eyes, gazing at Andrew like Andrew was someone to want. 

  
Andrew only recognized the look because he had caught himself looking at Neil exactly the same way. He pressed his mouth against Neil’s before Neil could think of a clever remark or notice the hunger Andrew couldn’t quite conceal. 

  
Neil didn’t seem to mind; not when Andrew kissed him and not when he gasped Andrew’s name over and over as Andrew brought him over the edge.

  
-

  
They slipped back into the main building of the camp unnoticed, as the foxes had begun their party without them. The sun had long set and the heat had finally allowed the chilly night to take over. 

  
They took turns showering. 

  
When they met again at the top of the stairs, Neil laughed at the pink staining Andrew’s cheeks. In return, Andrew dug his finger into Neil’s chest, right under his collarbone where a bruise was forming on his skin. 

  
Neil didn’t even flinch. He caught Andrew’s hand in his and brought it to his lips, leaving a chaste kiss across Andrew’s scarred knuckles.

  
Andrew thought of pushing him down the stairs then. He didn’t, and Neil smiled as if he knew. 

  
Neil had smiled all afternoon and he smiled all night too, though he wouldn’t tell anyone why. 

  
In the early morning, he allowed Andrew to kiss him goodnight and good morning, and Andrew almost tasted that smile he couldn’t understand. 

  
-

  
By the time Nicky got to the last page of the testimony, the kitchen light they had turned on hours ago was useless. 

  
The papers were not bound or stapled together. Nicky took great care to stack them back up in the right order while he read the printed out lies spiced by small portions of truth. Judging by the wrinkle on Nicky’s forehead, he figured out that much. 

  
Nicky finished the last page and placed it on top of the pile face down.

  
“Is this what happened?” he asked.

  
Andrew learnt back in his chair pushed to the window, dropping his head back. His neck was sore from hours of sitting in one position. It would be for the rest of the day, Andrew mused as he stared at the plain ceiling of the kitchen. The sunburn didn’t really help. 

  
“More or less.”

  
Nicky stood from his seat, walking over to the counter. Possibly to make another coffee. It would be his third one. 

  
Andrew couldn’t bring himself to share his nervousness that morning.

  
“This makes it sound like you can’t wait to be locked up, Andrew,” Nicky said. “Wasn’t Kevin’s lawyer supposed to be worth the money Kevin stuffs in his pocket?”

  
Kevin’s lawyer was supposed to be a lot of things – good, brutal, cunning, worth the money. The man had talked with Andrew like he would talk with a child, not someone who possibly committed a murder. 

  
“This is the same testimony I gave the first time,” Andrew said. Nicky had to understand then. “I haven’t changed it since.”

  
The sound of china dropping onto the floor and smashing into pieces didn’t startle Andrew. Neither did the cursing that followed the smash. What did jerk Andrew into motion was the sob that had escaped Nicky.

  
Nicky shook with it, his shoulders and his voice as he mumbled words Andrew didn’t catch. 

  
On the kitchen floor in the early morning, Nicky bawled his eyes out, and Andrew didn’t know what to do other than to sit beside him and let Nicky cry for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, ehm, after months, I enjoyed writing! This chapter basically wrote itself, for which I am thankful lmao. Some of this is unedited, so if you can tell what, no you don't
> 
> I think there will be another 4-5 chapters and then we are done. I am really itching to finally finish this and get it off my hands, but at the same time I know I will have a hard time parting with this story, as it accompanied me for such a long time. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you found this chapter at least a tiny bit enjoyable!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew looks back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello !  
> I have no excuse other than covid and uni happened  
> This is not a full chapter, but more of a transition in the story

Day after day, Andrew left a neat pile of clothes at Neil’s door the first thing in the morning.

It didn’t matter if Andrew had slept during the night or not. Long before the camp awoke, he would be in his room, bent over his wardrobe in search of clothes. He would dig through it like anything in there changed. Like a change was possible without an effort.

Like it was possible at all.

Andrew’s wasn’t trying to change Neil. It had been the thought when he stepped away from the first pile, but he had erased it before it could settle. Lending Neil clothes wouldn’t change him, because Neil wasn’t superficial like that. No, this strange habit had been born out of Andrew’s even stranger wish to leave something of himself behind.

He could understand that much thanks to years of analysing others analyse him. Therapy did that do people, Betsy had told him once. It made one understand their behaviour, even if they were far too gone to fix it.

There were many things Andrew didn’t think he could fix, but there were still things he could do. Make himself useful during the last week he had.

The clothing didn’t wary in colour or fit as much as it did in the shade of black. To an untrained eye, the t-shirts Neil had begun to wear looked identical. They weren’t. Each day, Andrew picked a clean one. He folded it and included a pair of socks to match.

Neil’s socks always reached well above his ankles; sometimes their hem shied only an inch away from his knees. The tan lines they created gave Andrew a migraine each time he spotted them on Neil’s reddening skin.

Whenever thankful for the change from Nicky’s colourful shirts or simply humouring Andrew, Neil wore the clothes. He didn’t question Andrew’s intentions or motives.

Neither did anyone else. They all accepted the change as if was only natural for Neil to slip into black, to fit in where Andrew unknowingly created a spot for him.

Andrew himself forgot, sometimes, that there had been days when Neil had blinded them in bright orange. When he had hidden from them in plain grey. The only reminder of Neil’s old clothes were his sneakers, filthy and torn beyond saving. Somehow, they didn’t ruin the image Andrew had put together. Somehow, they added the much-needed essence of Neil into it.

Neil didn’t seem to care who was dressing him in what, anyway. If he cared for one thing about his presence, it was how much of his father greeted him in the mirror. He didn’t hide the three burn scars from others, but he avoided their reflection like a plague.

Even during the worst of the heat, Neil pulled his sleeves down, over his palms and the knuckles of his fingers. He only allowed his skin to breathe when he was alone with Andrew. Sitting by the cool water of the lake, Neil let both Andrew and the sun to kiss the scars scattered over his chest, his arms, his back.

It didn’t surprise anyone when one morning Andrew left not only a neat pile of black clothing but also a pair of brand new armbands at Neil’s door.

Betsy would call the gesture an expected development. Not just the gesture, but everything. Andrew hated those words, however, and so she never used them around him anymore. That, too, was probably an expected development.

-

The foxes packed up and dragged all their screaming and betting away along with their bags.

Andrew stood aside, leaned against his truck. The red words, hidden under the tarpaulin but not forgotten, burned against his back anyway.

The foxes’ goodbye was somehow less tentative than it had been the previous year, than it had been months ago. This goodbye was in a name of pity, and Nicky shouldered it all with a weak smile and unsure promises. He would text. It would be all okay. They would all come back.

All of his words were nothing but lies forced through gritted teeth. One hand gesture, and Andrew would step between them, shut them all up, but Nicky chose to fight this battle himself. For Andrew, and for Aaron, who hadn’t bothered to show up despite Wymack’s orders.

None of the foxes got as close to Andrew as they did to Nicky except for Wilds.

She stood aside just as Andrew stood aside for a long while. Kevin could take some time to remind everyone what he wanted from them in just a few weeks. Both Andrew and Wilds stood aside, and as if it was only natural, Wilds eventually drifted closer. She stepped past the safe distance the foxes always made sure to keep between themselves, the troubled snowflakes, and Andrew, the murderer.

The difference between them, however, was never about their pasts. The attitude was all one needed to look at. While Andrew could admit he no longer passed for a good person, they couldn’t. They went and blamed everything, everyone but themselves, for their own actions. They used their pasts as an excuse instead of a reason.

Andrew didn’t acknowledge Wilds, despite the foot of space separating them. They watched Kevin listen to Boyd’s fitness plan, even if he remembered it by heart. He listened only to point out all of its shortcomings later.

“Minyard,” Wilds said, voice all choked up with its strange tone. She cleared her throat and when she spoke, she sounded more like herself, but not quite. “I will see you in fall.”

Andrew didn’t acknowledge her still. He let her struggle, just as she let Aaron and Nicky struggle these two years of terrible orange. Aaron and Nicky had tried, at first. Always reached out, always got shut down because at the end of the day, they chose family over strangers.

That was the thing with the foxes, Andrew supposed. For all their talk, they never listened. Not to reasons and not to warnings. They ignored pleads and they ignored threats until they became reality. Then they pointed fingers – that was the easy thing to do, after all.

By the time the second spring of being a fox had approached, even Nicky gave up on the title becoming anything but that.

“Will you?” Andrew asked, not particularly interested in the conversation. The sooner they left, the sooner he could take a breath to fill his anxious lungs.

Wilds cleared her throat again, putting on her proper captain costume that fooled the crowds but not Andrew. 

“I hope I will.”

Andrew turned to look at her then; to catch the lie lingering in her expression. All he found was confusion quickly covered up by determination that narrowed Wilds’ eyes as she stared at Andrew. Only four words had left her mouth, but it was the most any of them had ever said to Andrew.

After two years, it seemed too little too late, but Andrew nodded anyway. Bitterness didn’t equal the need to cause an unnecessary scene.

Wilds nodded back, didn’t say anything else. She slipped back to her team and Andrew continued to watch them until they left the property.

-

Later that night, Andrew received a single text.

> _Renee: I don’t think I will need to, but if I do, I will visit you._

Andrew couldn’t imagine her in a prison, her pastel colours in a different sea of orange than she was used to. So close to the life she had escaped, just barely.

> _Andrew: Don’t_

-

Neil tugged at his fair, often these days, when he noticed the hints of ginger showing at his roots.

When Andrew caught Neil like that, swimming too deep in the sea of his memories, he wondered if dyeing Neil’s hair had been the best thing he had done.

For Neil.

For anyone.

Ever.

Perhaps the best Andrew could do was to buy another box dye and work it into Neil’s curls.

He did.

His hands were nowhere near gentle, but Neil had never asked for gentle. Not when they kissed, not when they played Kevin’s stupid exy. Neil wanted Andrew; the way Andrew was. Not the way he could be nor the way he should be.

Andrew knew rough and he knew practical. Neil didn’t complain. He only closed his eyes and let Andrew deal with the hair dye.

It seemed foolish, all of it.

Neil could change his hair, but his face would always be only half his own. His father would look for him ginger or not. He would find Neil, one day. After all, Andrew hadn’t been born an invincible man and he certainly hadn’t grown into one.

Dyeing Neil’s hair was, probably, a waste of time. It was a whim Andrew gave into, just to feel like he could change a thing. It was an excuse to feel Neil’s skin under his fingers without exposing his desires. It was foolish, all of it.

Neil had to know that as well. And still, he looked Andrew with this strange awe in his eyes, and Andrew hated him.

Andrew hated him so.

-

The seventh of August fell onto Wednesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So .. yeah.   
> I am posting this just to post something, just to move an inch from the spot I've been stuck at. Most of the days, I just want to abandon this project, but as I am so close to the end, I will push through. We only have the trial and bit of a story left after all ! 
> 
> Hope you are doing well!


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for the trial and Andrew ponders about his relationships with others

Aaron knew very well that the seventh of August fell onto Wednesday that year. He had started counting the days down the moment he had read the court letter, hungry for the freedom Andrew would leave behind. He looked forward nothing but the day he would see Andrew’s back for the last time, escaping his not quite right reflection.

Andrew couldn’t bring himself to blame Aaron. Not when Aaron had clutched the letter with so much joy it could have been his best birthday gift. Not when Aaron had pressed his finger against the black dot on the calendar, staining his skin with the not yet dry ink.

Most of the days, that hunger for freedom was the only emotion Aaron was capable of feeling.

The Monday morning, however, Aaron stared at the black dot on the wall calendar in the dining room, and Andrew couldn’t find the hunger behind his gaze. Andrew couldn’t find anger or bitterness. There was nothing that he had come to associate with Aaron’s rare attention.

Instead, there was a pity Andrew hadn’t seen in a mirror in years. It tugged at Aaron’s mouth and softened his eyes, stealing years from him. Andrew didn’t think it was possible for his – their – face to look so open. More honest than their words had ever been, uncontrolled the way their actions could never be.

Andrew dropped the plate he was meant to put away, and Aaron startled, shaken out of his trance. He shot Andrew a glare that Andrew was used to, could handle, and Andrew ignored him in return.

This, Andrew could stomach. This, he could live with.

-

“I don’t think he hates you,” Nicky had told Andrew once, over a cold coffee in the early morning. “I think you’re just the easiest one to blame. Because if he has no one to blame, then-”

“Then he has nothing else to hold onto,” Andrew had finished for him.

Nicky had nodded and they had not talked about Aaron again.

-

Erik always brought candy with him. He gathered not only the German kinds but also a few from the neighbour countries, everything that wouldn’t get him into trouble at the airport.

He usually left the plastic bag in the kitchen, feigning forgetfulness, and Andrew stuffed most of the sweets into his pockets once the room was empty. Most of them were his favourites, anyway. They were all meant for him, after all.

This year, Erik had brought Andrew two bags instead of one, but only one of them contained candy. The second bag was bigger, softer to touch, and when Andrew finally peeked inside it, hysteria greeted him like an old friend. At the bottom sat a carefully wrapped beige package, tied with a black ribbon and with a card stuck to it. This year, Erik had brought Andrew a gift that Andrew couldn’t call anything but what it was.

A gift was the last thing Andrew had needed to cloud his thoughts two days before the trial.

Andrew pulled the chair Kevin usually claimed for himself and sank onto it, the old thing groaning in protest. At the end of the camping season, Nicky would buy new ones. He could save some money if he bought one chair less, but Nicky wouldn’t do that. He would rather pay for a chair no one would use than not save Andrew a seat.

Had Andrew been anyone else, he would find the sentiment touching. But Andrew was no one but himself, and recognizing the gesture was progress bigger than Andrew had ever expected to make.

Andrew reached for the package. He tore the ribbon off and ripped the wrapping paper, crumpling the card in the process. It fell onto the floor, along with the torn paper, but Andrew paid it no mind.

It was a shirt – black and obviously expensive, folded neatly to fit into Erik’s tiny suitcase Nicky always teased him about. Andrew unfolded with more care than he thought his fingers were capable off and laid it out on the table. It felt nothing like the cheap shirts he had bought over the years, rough enough to leave his skin itching all over. This fabric was smooth, darker than the washed-out t-shirts Andrew left at Neil’s doorstep every morning. It seemed to be the correct size, but that wasn’t surprising. Nicky was the only one of them who could do laundry.

It was a gift.

Andrew reached for the abandoned card, laying on the floor under the wrapping paper. He didn’t bother to smooth it out.

In Erik’s cursive, the card read ‘Heard you could use a new one’.

It was a gift too pretty to wear only once.

Andrew stared at the card for a long time. He only shoved it into his pocket, along with the sweets, when Kevin’s footsteps echoed down the hall. Andrew hid the shirt back in the plastic bag and clutched it to his chest, ignoring Kevin’s confused look when he appeared in the kitchen.

Kevin knew better than to ask, and Andrew didn’t look back after he left the room.

-

“You could run away,” Neil said on Tuesday. He knew it was the wrong thing to tell Andrew, out of all the people. He just didn’t care about wrong and right the same way Andrew did.

That afternoon, they sat on the roof of Andrew’s old cabin while the world went on without them.

Nicky and Erik were preparing new flower beds, although it was too late in the summer to plant any new flowers. They just needed something to do, to busy their hands enough to overpower their mind. Nicky couldn’t sleep that night, but it had been Erik to accompany him in the kitchen’s dim light.

The last time Andrew had seen Kevin, he was heading to the court to hit one ball after another, each one of his shots more precise than the last. He seemed to never miss his target these days, frustration pushing him towards the perfection he craved so much. Andrew feared what Kevin’s reaction once he realised he had achieved that particular dream – that there wasn’t anything left for him to perfect. Kevin didn’t know any other way to live than to chase perfection.

Aaron stayed in his room, surrounded by silence Andrew slowly grew accustomed to but caught him off guard each time still.

“Run away,” Andrew repeated.

He could run away, for a while. But the past was a ghost one couldn’t outrun; not for long. The past would trail after Andrew until it finally consumed him whole, the way it had always been going to. But if Andrew allowed himself the brief stupidity of considering Neil’s idea, then the conclusion was simple. Andrew had been running from this ghost for over three years.

“Yes,” Neil said.

Instead of gracing Neil with an answer, Andrew blew smoke in his direction.

Neil’s face split up in a grin. It had been a while since he had tried to smoulder it into his shoulder or hide in the neckline of his hoodie. It had been a while since controlled his movements so strictly they had seemed stolen. Neil inhaled the smoke and stole the remain of Andrew’s cigarette, letting it burn down between his crooked fingers.

“You have this one expression that is so easy to read I could do it blindfolded,” Neil said, pointing the now dying cigarette at Andrew’s face. “This one.”

Andrew didn’t move a muscle, and Neil’s grin grew wider. For other people, it was barely a tiny smile, Andrew knew. But they were not other people.

“It is not hard to guess at what moment I’m thinking what an idiot you are,” Andrew said. “I think that all the time.”

Neil stubbed the cigarette out and tossed it onto the pile of cigarette butts growing by his feet. He shifted to face Andrew properly, his pointy knees ending up only an inch or two from Andrew’s thigh. He peered at Andrew with so much youth creeping into his relaxed features that Andrew reached out and shoved his face away.

“That means you think about me all the time,” Neil said, his voice coming out all strange with the way Andrew was still squeezing his cheek.

Andrew huffed. In the great scheme of things, it didn’t matter what secrets Andrew gave away when the calendar promised him only one more afternoon.

“I will push you off this roof.”

“It won’t kill me. Only break my legs, and Kevin will be pissed because of that. Are the consequences worth the momentary bliss?”

That was a question Andrew couldn’t find an answer to, not even after a month of constant contemplating. Certainly, whatever this was couldn’t be worth everything bound to go to hell eventually. Certainly, Neil wasn’t worth the sure collapse of everything Andrew had built.

And yet.

“It might be,” Andrew said, though not about Kevin’s rage. “But I suppose I will not take that risk.”

And Neil smiled like he knew; like he wasn’t talking about Kevin either.

-

At the dinner, the calendar was missing. It left behind a strangely empty space on the wall, unnoticeable to those who didn’t look for it but impossibly obvious to anyone at Andrew’s table.

Neil, seated on Andrew’s right, kept staring at the spot as if he missed the piece of paper and colourful marker. The single black dot. Only when they finished their meal in silence Andrew caught the strange sorrow in his eyes, and realised it was not the calendar on Neil’s mind.

Andrew stormed off to his room before Neil could confirm his dreadful guess and ruin the last few hours Andrew had.

-

The seventh of August fell onto Wednesday, and although it didn’t rain, the skies weren’t smiling either. The sun seemed to take it its time climbing up the cloudy sky, and the world slept.

The camp did not.

Andrew dressed with numb fingers, working the buttons of the black shirt with more muscle memory than attention. The freshly ironed material warmed his skin only for a fleeting second, and then it settled down like a heavy weight. It felt suffocating in a way given roles and expectations were. Andrew left the very top button undone in hopes of loosening his collar enough to breathe, but the promised doom wrapped snugly around his throat instead.

For the first time in years, Andrew had not pulled his armbands on. They would not fit under the sleeves of the shirt. The fabric clung to his skin and despite its darkness, Andrew would swear his scars shined through it. He could trace each one of the thin, white lines. He could count them, one by one, the same way he had counted Neil’s.

Neil would count Andrew’s in return, if Andrew allowed him to.

Andrew didn’t. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t.

Neil respected that much. He was the only one who respected each line Andrew drew.

Andrew sank into his chair, pulled the drawer of his desk open. He yanked the exy keychain off his keys and ran his finger over the already scratched surface, recalling how shiny and smooth it had been when Neil had first handed it to him. It had been barely a month ago, but it felt like years.

The time itself didn’t seem keen on letting Neil go.

The keychain didn’t belong with him, Andrew had decided. It belonged with the crumpled twenty-dollar bill and an old cigarette box, all the things that were memories but felt like fantasies of a fool instead. He would leave them behind and if he were to ever come back, they would remind him that impossible was possible, sometimes, for a little while.

Neil had been too good to be real, Andrew had thought once. He had been right – Neil wasn’t real, after all. Neil was a liar and a runway, nothing but a fake name and a person made up instead of born. That didn’t make him any less fascinating.

Andrew locked the keychain in his drawer and hid the key above the window.

The clock showed barely six in the morning, but the main building lived, ran on the nervous energy that was everyone’s except Andrew’s. Nicky and Aaron were preparing both breakfast and lunch in the kitchen while Kevin occupied the bathroom, taking one of his terribly long showers to cool his head. Erik had gone on a run a while ago, probably circling the whole camp. Neil –

Andrew met Neil in the hall.

Neil stood by his door with his hair still sticking up, tangled up and greasy at the roots, wearing the t-shirt Andrew had lent him the previous day. In the dim light, unperfect the way Andrew didn’t think could ever be attractive, he almost passed for a real person. Almost.

Andrew handed him the familiar pair of armbands and was reminded why Neil couldn’t be real.

Neil recognized the bands, but his gaze didn’t travel to Andrew’s arms, exposed even when hidden. No, Neil clutched the armbands to his chest and stared at Andrew with a storm behind his eyes. Andrew didn’t need pity nor sympathy, and so Neil stuck with anger. Andrew wasn’t its target but its fuel, and Neil had not once shied away from voicing as much.

If Andrew wouldn’t get angry, then Neil would be furious for him. Neil would shout and throw things; he would argue with Kevin and Aaron and he would argue with Andrew, too. If he could, he would argue with the entire world, probably.

Unhealthy, Betsy’s voice whispered in Andrew’s head. But better than the alternative, Andrew replied.

How strange it was, to be considered an option when Andrew wasn’t even a question in the first place.

Andrew nodded at Neil and stomped down the stairs before Kevin caught them in the middle of whatever this was.

-

They lingered by the old cabin instead of climbing onto the roof, as Andrew owned only one suit and Nicky wouldn’t allow him to step into the courtroom in anything else. The shirt was too nice of a gift to ruin too.

Andrew lit their cigarettes, and for once, Neil smoked his. He smoked Andrew’s as well. Andrew watched him and saw only his own reflection in Neil’s unfocused eyes.

“Are you scared?” Neil asked as he finished the second cigarette. His voice was no longer raspy with sleep but with an odd kind of desperation. “Of prison.”

Andrew though this was the point where he would have laughed had he still been in high school. Looking back at his teen years, the answer didn’t take longer than a heartbeat to appear at the tip of his tongue.

“No.”

Neil’s blank face twisted into an ugly frown. He licked his bottom lip before he pulled it between his teeth, the wrinkle on his forehead deep.

“Prison is supposed to be full of bad people, right?” Neil asked, all the stress on the word ‘supposed’. Still defending Andrew, just in case.

“Yes. I might become one of them.”

Neil’s frown turned furious then, but he chewed on his lip before he could start an argument he couldn’t win. One afternoon they had spent by the lake, Neil had told Andrew he would always defend him. Neil hadn’t received an answer, not one other than being pushed into the cold water. Andrew had followed him soon after, stealing kisses from Neil while their soaked clothes clung to them.

Andrew still didn’t have the answer and he wasn’t it either, no matter what Neil believed in that foolish head of his.

“Oh, Neil,” Andrew said at last. “You, better than anyone, should know that the worst of the worst aren’t held back by the bars. They are the ones free to do as they please among us.”

“But-“

“Juvie was probably worse.”

“How?”

“Juvie is a prison for kids who are still protected by the law. Those in prison have nothing to lose, but those in juvie are blinded by their protection. Which group do you think would go further?”

Neil gestured for a third cigarette. Once Andrew lit it, he smoked that one as well. Andrew had never asked him why he inhaled the cigarettes when he usually didn’t smoke.

It felt too late to ask now. It felt too late to ask anything now. All those unasked questions now felt too close to regret.

“You were in juvie,” Neil said, repeating the little he knew from Andrew’s past. “Did you do bad things because you were protected by the world?”

“I went to juvie to be protected from the world.”

Neil nodded, his frown yet to leave his features. “And you ended up protecting everyone instead.”

Andrew raised his hand and pressed it against Neil’s face the moment Neil lowered the cigarette from his lips. His breath tickled Andrew’s cold palm, sent shivers down his spine, but he didn’t flinch away even when Neil spoke up again.

“Who has your back when you have mine and Kevin’s and –“

“I don’t need anyone to have my back.”

“What if I want-“

“No.”

Neil huffed an annoyed chuckle against Andrew’s palm. Ever so slowly his fingers came to hover over Andrew’s, keeping good two inches between them. At Andrew’s nod, Neil tapped Andrew’s wrist with his pointer finger.

Andrew was glad to take the hint.

“Don’t speak nonsense,” he warned Neil as he dragged his hand down Neil’s face to wrap it around Neil’s throat. His fingers dug into Neil’s nape, the texture of Neil’s skin familiar enough.

Neil leaned into the touch the same way he always did; without a second thought. He dropped the cigarette and Andrew stomped on it, crushing it under the boot he refused to exchange for ugly dress shoes.

“I will speak more of it once you are back,” Neil said, closing his eyes as Andrew’s fingers crept up his skin, into his still tangled hair.

“And if I am not?” Andrew asked, just to humour them both.

“Then I will get you out.”

“Can you do what Kevin’s lawyer can’t?”

Neil’s eyes flew open, the ice of them burning. “Neil can’t,” he said. “Nathaniel can.”

Andrew tugged at a particularly knotted up strand of Neil’s hair, forcing Neil to tilt his head back. He pressed the fingers of his free hand against Neil’s pulse, surprised to find it steady despite the mention of the name they didn’t speak of.

“I told you to stop with the nonsense,” Andrew said. “Don’t dig out the skeletons I have spent a month trying to bury.”

Neil opened his mouth to speak, but the sound of heavy footsteps approaching them stopped him from expressing any more stupid thoughts.

Andrew withdrew in a smooth step, moments before Erik appeared from behind the trees. 

Erik waved his greetings and took a sharp turn to the right, leaving the two of them behind. He wouldn’t tell Nicky, not even if Nicky asked, but the encounter still rubbed Andrew the wrong way.

Neil wasn’t real. This – whatever this was – wasn’t real either. Erik saw nothing, but he would think something of it anyway.

But then again, it mattered no more what others thought of him.

-

Kevin’s SUV was a thing of beauty. It never failed to surprise Andrew, although it had been the exact opposite of the car he had once dreamed of.

Now, parked next to Andrew’s old truck, it shone more than ever, its black hood putting the truck’s weirdly crooked metal to shame.

And yet, Andrew’s fingers itched to unlock the truck and force everyone inside, to drive down the usually empty road surrounded by trees and fields till the end of the time. Run away, Neil had said. The idea had wormed its way into Andrew’s brain enough for him to remember it now, moments before Kevin ushered him into the SUV.

Run away, Neil had said, and Andrew thought about it.

He tossed his keys in the air and caught them, knowing well enough he would have to give them to Nicky sooner or later. He could just give them to Erik now, so they didn’t have the leave the camp with him.

Run away, Neil had said, but Andrew couldn’t.

Neil had to know that much, because where he stood by the main gate, his face spoke of the same acceptance Andrew had woken up with a month ago. He didn’t bother to hide it, and he didn’t bother to fake a smile for Nicky’s terribly cheerful assurance of Andrew’s return.

Andrew should have kept the keychain on him. It was a reminder that the last summer of his hadn’t been just a creation of his desperate imagination. But that wouldn’t be fair, because Andrew had given Neil nothing except empty promises and a pair of black armbands.

He had given Nicky and Erik nothing but trouble. He had given Kevin nothing but silence to cry in.

He had given Aaron nothing at all.

As Nicky and Aaron dragged themselves to Kevin’s car, Neil made a beeline for Andrew. He tugged on the sleeve of Andrew’s shirt and Andrew nodded, followed Neil behind the truck for the illusion of privacy on the parking lot. There he stood and stared at Andrew like he had forgotten all the words in the vocabulary except for those two.

Run away, Neil wanted to say. His eyes gave away that much.

“Spare me your nonsense,” Andrew said.

Neil nodded, tugging at the hem of Andrew’s t-shirt he still wore. He looked nothing like the terrified stranger Andrew had found in the rain, but Andrew saw him clearly even now. It had to be a conscience because not even fate itself could be cruel enough to show Andrew what he could have had, if only –

If only he had not done what he had.

“I just – Thank you,” Neil said. “You were amazing.”

Andrew didn’t answer him.

Andrew didn’t look back as he walked away, ribs crushing his heart in his suddenly too-tight chest. He climbed into Kevin’s shiny SUV and he didn’t dare to look at all he was leaving.

All Andrew had ever wanted was a one peaceful summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters guys !

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback or ideas or babbling is much welcomed, but thank you if you got this far! If you have an idea for a missing scene from Neil' pov you would like to read, let me know
> 
> Also, you can find me at Tumblr @minyards, I'm active even when it seems like I'm not and I'm always ready to talk Andreil


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